Greta Christina's Blog

Pride, Stonewall, and the Importance of Confrontation

Happy Pride, everybody! And happy 40th anniversary of Stonewall.

I want to talk about Stonewall today. I want to talk about movements for social change -- not just queer, but atheist, and feminist, and black activist, and disabled activist, and just about every other movement for social change I can think of. And I want to talk about the conflict that has gone on in every one of these movements I know about: the conflict between accomodationists and confrontationalists, between people who want to make change by polite, patient diplomacy, and people who want to make change through passionate confrontation.

And I want to point something out:

The Gay Pride parade is a celebration of a riot.

The Stonewall riots began on June 28, 1969, when a bunch of New York bar queens and dykes who had been pushed around by the police all night got fed up and pushed back. Pushed back hard. Pushed back with bottles and rocks, garbage cans and bricks. Pushed back with a riot. A series of riots, in fact: riots that lasted for days.

And that riot is generally considered to have sparked the modern LGBT rights movement.

Now, to some extent, that's a misunderstanding of history. There had been gay activism and organizing well before Stonewall: the Mattachine Society, the Daughters of Bilitis, the homophile movement in Europe in the early 20th century, etc. There had even been some direct confrontations and riots. But it is undeniably true that the Stonewall riots sparked something, around the country and around the world. Before Stonewall, there had been some quiet organizing and a handful of uprisings. After Stonewall, the out, proud, visible, marching- in- the- streets gay rights movement suddenly went into overdrive.

There's a story -- it may be an urban legend, I can't find an attribution for it, but it doesn't actually matter -- about a plan to put up a monument to Stonewall in Greenwich Village. A prominent gay politico was asked what he thought would be an appropriate monument... and he answered, "A drag queen with a brick in his hand."

Drag queens with bricks in their hands. That is what we're celebrating.

I don't say this to denigrate polite, diplomatic activism. To the contrary: I strongly believe that any successful social change movement needs both diplomats and hard-liners. Without the quiet work that the Daughters of Bilitis and the Mattachine Society and such had been doing for years, the LGBT movement would have had a much harder time getting off the ground. I believe that diplomacy and confrontation are stronger together, and work together in a synergy that is far more powerful than either would be alone. It's like playing good cop/ bad cop.

I'm just saying this:

When we celebrate LGBT Pride -- whether we're queer or straight, whether we're marching in the stroller brigade or dancing half- naked on a bar float, whether we're wearing a rainbow feather boa or a polo shirt, whether we're sporting a T-shirt that says "Straight but Not Narrow" or "Nobody Knows I'm Gay" -- we are commemorating the anniversary of a riot.

And it's important that we not forget that.

See also:
Good Cop, Bad Cop: Atheist Activism

Come See Greta Read! Bi-licious Reminder, Sat. 6/6

Hi, all! Just a quick reminder: I'm going to be reading this Saturday, June 6, as part of "Bi-licious", an evening of spoken word, music, and dance showcasing bisexual artists, performers and activists through a playful mix of serious issues and entertainment. If you're in the Bay Area this Saturday, it'd be great to see you there.

Part of the National Queer Arts Festival, "Bi-licious" will be at the LGBT Center in San Francisco, at 1800 Market St. (at Octavia), on Saturday June 6 at 7 pm. Tickets are $12.00 - $20.00; if you have a postcard for the event, you can get discount tickets for $10 at the door. Other performers include slam poet Liz Green, musician Khalil Sullivan, The Three Sisters belly dance troupe, and singer/ songwriter Elisa M Welch. There'll be a panel discussion afterwards, in case you want to chat. Hope to see you there!

"I'm Confused": Dance Homophobia, Gender Rigidity, and "So You Think You Can Dance"

So what does it mean when people in the dance world -- I repeat, the dance world -- are shocked and confused at the sight of two men dancing together?

Ingrid and I are fans of the TV show, "So You Think You Can Dance." Yes, it's a cheesy reality competition show; but the cheese factor isn't as bad as it could be, and the level of dancing is quite serious, and quite high. Since I care about dancing, I'm willing to overlook the stupid manufactured drama and the cheese, so I can watch the dancing.... which is very, very good indeed.

A couple weeks ago (I know, I'm behind the times, we Tivoed it and just watched it the other night), they premiered their new season. They started, as always, by showcasing highlights from the audition process. And they showed, for the first time in the show's five- year history, an audition of two men doing ballroom dance together: Misha Belfer, and Mitchel Kibel.

And the judges were completely flummoxed. They were not just confused -- a word two of the three judges used to describe their reactions. They were visibly upset. They were so freaked out that they were unable to render a verdict on the pair's dancing, and insisted that each man repeat the audition with a woman, so they could accurately judge the men's dancing without the distraction of the same-sexness of it all.

Here, so you can judge for yourself, are a few samples of the judges' comments. (For those who think I might be taking these out of context -- or who just don't feel that their blood pressure is high enough -- a complete transcript of the judging scene is at the end of this piece.)

Nigel Lythgoe: "I'm certainly one of those people that really like to see guys be guys and girls be girls on stage. I don't think I liked it, to be frank."

Mary Murphy: This is the first time, honestly, for me to see it. I'm confused, because I see that sometimes you're both being the female role and sometimes the male, so, like, and then sometimes you'll do the trick and then he does it too. So it confuses me.

(Quick note from Greta: Switching back and forth rapidly between lead and follow in a dance -- what I assume Mary meant by "the male role" and "the female role" -- is unbelievably hard to do. It's even harder to do it gracefully and seamlessly. The fact that these dancers were able to do this should not have been freaking these judges out. It should have been making them give high marks.)

Mary: It was hard for me to even kind of focus on that technique, 'cause I was still just trying to figure out... It would have been easier for me, in other words, if, if one person was playing the female role and one was playing the male role.

Sonya Tayeh: I'm saying that in the genre that I've seen, when I see this approach (gesturing), which, I usually see it from the female perspective. I relate more to it as a female. So I just get confused. You guys are both amazing, and the movement quality, but I was just confused in terms of the, the classical form.

Nigel: Do you know what? I'd like to see you both dancing with a girl.

Mary: I would, too.

Sonya: Me, too.

Nigel: You never know. You might enjoy that! (smirking) All right, see you later.

(And at this point, both dancers were sent on to the group choreography, so they could be judged on their dancing with women.)

Now, to be fair -- for some reason, even though this is making me spitting mad, I still feel compelled to be fair -- I don't think this is homophobia in the strictest sense of the word. I don't think the judges are fearful or hostile towards gay people. These judges are dance people, and I'm sure they've all met and worked with kajillions of gay men before, with no problem. (And in fact, one of these two dancers isn't gay. Mitchel is a straight guy, originally from the straight ballroom dance world, who switched to same-sex ballroom because it didn't work out with his female dance partner and he wanted an opportunity to keep dancing.)

I think it's what I call "dance homophobia." It's something I've encountered in the dance world before. People are reasonably accepting of LGBT people and our LGBT-ness in our personal lives... but on the dance floor, it's Heteronormative City. Men are supposed to be men, women are supposed to be women, each is supposed to dance in a certain way, and they're bloody well supposed to dance with each other.

It's the aspect of homophobia that's about a deep attachment to rigid gender roles, and that sees homosexuality as upsetting those roles. (Which, in fact, it is.) It's the aspect of homophobia that sees certain kinds of interactions -- in this case, partner dancing -- as being about one person expressing Masculinity and the other person expressing Femininity, with the two fitting together in some sort of magically ordained way... and that gets confused at best and upset at worst when people call those roles and assumptions into question.

So it's not like I've never encountered this before.

I was still shocked at the judges' attitude, though. And my first reaction was to say, "You're dance people. Are you really not familiar with same-sex ballroom dancing? Do you really not know that this is a thing? Do you really not know that this is being taught and danced at dance studios around the country and around the world? Do you really not know that it's happening on a competitive level?"

But I decided, for some bizarre reason, to be fair for just one more moment. Maybe they never have seen or heard of same-sex ballroom dancing. It is a subculture, after all, a weird little world of a handful of people obsessed with their hobby. I do find it a bit shocking that I, with my extremely limited dance experience, am familiar with a dance form that professional choreographers have apparently never seen or heard of... but hey. Maybe they've never heard of longsword dancing, either. So maybe it's not that appalling that same-sex ballroom would be such a revelation to them.

And then I came up with a much, much better example.

Okay. Maybe they've never seen same-sex ballroom before.

Have they ever seen Mark Morris?

For those of you who aren't familiar with the dance world: That was a very snarky question. Mark Morris is one of the most famous, important, influential choreographers of our time. In the dance world, he is as famous and important and influential as Alvin Ailey or Twyla Tharpe. The judges of "So You Think You Can Dance" have absolutely heard of him.

And one of the things Mark Morris is most famous for -- one of the single most defining features of his choreography -- is gender fluidity.

Mark Morris loves to play with gender. He has men dancing women's roles, women dancing men's roles, dancers switching back and forth between male and female roles throughout a ballet. He has men dancing together, women dancing together, women dancing with men. He has group dances where everyone is doing the same routines and steps, and you can't tell which dancers are the men and which are the women. (And you don't care.) He has dances where it's an important, written-in part of the dance that men dance as women and women dance as men; he has dances where he casts the roles without regard to gender. Mark Morris understands that both men and women all have both masculine and feminine qualities -- not to mention qualities that have bupkis to do with gender -- and he loves to play with bringing all of those qualities out in all of his dancers. Mark Morris is very far from the only gay choreographer in the world; but he is one of the first to be publicly, proudly, fiercely gay, and to openly weave his gayness, and the way his gayness has informed his playful and fluid perception of gender, into his work.

I repeat: One of the most famous, important, influential choreographers of our time.

And yet, despite the fact that every one these judges is absolutely guaranteed to be familiar with Mark Morris's work, somehow they still found the notion of gender fluidity and same-sex interaction in dance to be not only new, but shocking and confusing and upsetting. They were still so freaked out and distracted by two men dancing ballroom together -- and switching roles, no less -- that they were unable to judge the men's dancing abilities without seeing them dance "the men's part" with women. Despite being professional dance people of many years' standing, they were so fixated on rigid gender roles, so flummoxed at a little same-sexness and gender fluidity, that they were completely unable to see through it and just see the dancing.

Shame on them.

(Full transcript of the judging scene is below the jump.)

Special Rights, Not Equal Rights

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's a different take on the recent ruling upholding the Prop 8 ban on same-sex marriage in California. It's about how the court ruling essentially gives me and Ingrid and about 18,000 same-sex couples in California "special rights"... and what a strange, icky feeling that is.

The piece is titled Special Rights, Not Equal Rights, and here's the teaser:

For years, one of the mantras of the anti-gay right wing has been that LGBT activists want “special rights.” (It’s a mantra that gets used a lot to defend bigotry — it was sounded frequently in the fight against civil rights in the ’50s and ’60s, and in fact was used to oppose interracial marriage — so please take note of that.) And for years, one of the mantras of the LGBT rights movement has been, “Equal rights, not special rights.” We’re not asking for special rights: we’re asking for the same rights, and the same responsibilities, and the same opportunities to participate in and contribute to society, as everyone else.

And yet the weird-ass upshot of this court decision is that I, and Ingrid, and 18,000 other couples, have wound up with special rights.

That, my friends, is a strange position to be in.

To find out how and why this experience is so deeply bizarre and unsettling -- and what I plan to do about it -- read the rest of the piece. (And as always, if you feel inspired to comment on this blog, please consider cross- posting your comment to the Blowfish Blog. They like comments there, too.) Enjoy!

The Prop 8 Ruling: Discrimination as a Constitutional Principle

Today, the California Supreme Court allowed discrimination to be written into the state Constitution.

Today, the California Supreme Court upheld Proposition 8, the ballot initiative that changed the California Constitution to ban same-sex marriage.

I'm not just upset about this for my own personal reasons. I'm not just upset because I'm a woman in love with and married to another woman, and marriage equality is an issue of great personal importance for me. I'm not just upset because I think LGBT rights, including marriage equality, are among the most important civil rights issues of our day, with implications for straight people as well as queer. I'm not even just upset because of the intensely personal slap in the face: the slap of being told, by a majority of the people in your state and by the highest court of that state, that I am now, officially and legally and inscribed into the state Constitution, a second-class citizen.

All of that is bad enough. But it's not the worst of it.

The worst of it is the precedent it sets.

See, this isn't just about gay rights and marriage equality. This is about the principle that certain rights are inalienable. This is about the principle that, as important as democracy is, as important as it is for people to be able to vote on the laws and policies that govern them, certain rights transcend that principle, and cannot be taken away by majority rule. This is about the principle that there are limits to mob rule: that the fears and hatreds and prejudices of one class of people towards another cannot be inscribed into law. This is about the principle that people have every right to be bigots, but they do not have the right to write their bigotry into law... even if that bigotry is shared by the majority.

That principle was violated today.

It is now official California state policy, written into our Constitution, that fundamental rights can be taken away by a simple majority vote. It is now official California state policy that if enough people in the state don't like you, they can amend the Constitution to restrict your access to the institutions and laws, the rights and responsibilities, that are generally available to everyone. It is now official California state policy that discrimination against a specific class of people can be written into the Constitution if enough people support it. It is now official California state policy, written into our Constitution, that the basic principle of equality is less important than mob rule.

I don't know enough about the law to know whether, from a purely legal standpoint, today's decision is appropriate or defensible. I don't know enough about the law to know how legal scholars will look at this decision in ten or twenty or fifty years: whether they will see it as unfortunate but legally necessary, or as a grotesque travesty of the most precious principles that are the foundation of the law, and indeed at the core of the very idea of justice.

I don't know enough about the law to judge whether this decision is legally supportable. But I know this: It is a gross miscarriage of justice. And my greatest fear is this: Even if Proposition 8 eventually gets overturned by yet another ballot initiative (which I expect it will, sooner or later), that miscarriage of justice -- the precedent that it's okay to amend the state Constitution to discriminate against a particular class of citizens as long as that class is feared and despised by the majority -- will linger on.

Greta's Podcast Interview with Secular Nation

Want to hear me gas on converse eloquently in dulcet tones about atheism? Not sure what exactly "dulcet" means, but want to hear me talk about atheism anyway? Then check out this podcast interview I did with Secular Nation. Secular Nation, the magazine published by Atheist Alliance International, recently reprinted my Being an Atheist in the Queer Community piece... and they did a podcast to go along with it.

The podcast features the A. in the Q. C. piece being read aloud by David Driscoll, who then interviews me about same-sex marriage, the San Francisco gay scene, being brought up without religion, atheism in the context of social change movements, lesbian cherrypicking, and more... plus, of course, being an atheist in the queer community. It's a hootenanny, if by "hootenanny" you mean "thoughtful, occasionally funny conversation." Check it out!

Come See Greta Read! Bi-licious Performance and Panel, Sat. 6/6

If you're going to be in San Francisco on Saturday June 6, come hear me read! I'm going to be part of "Bi-licious," an evening of spoken word, music, and dance showcasing bisexual artists, performers and activists through a playful mix of serious issues and entertainment. I'll be reading from my erotic novella, "Bending" (part of the three- novella collection "Three Kinds of Asking For It).

Part of the National Queer Arts Festival, "Bi-licious" will be at the LGBT Center in San Francisco, at 1800 Market St. (at Octavia), on Saturday June 6 at 7 pm. Tickets are $12.00 - $20.00. Other performers include slam poet Liz Green, musician Khalil Sullivan, The Three Sisters belly dance troupe, and singer/ songwriter Elisa M Welch. There'll be a panel discussion afterwards, in case you want to chat. Hope to see you there!

The Prodigal Son's Brother: More Thoughts on Queers and the Atheist Community

I thought I'd reached something resembling peace about being an atheist in the LGBT community. I'm not happy with the high level of vociferous religiosity in the queer community, or with how non-believers in that community get dissed. But I also realize that the atheist movement has only been getting serious visibility and organization in the last few years, and it's just not realistic to expect the entire world -- queer or otherwise -- to jump overnight from ignorance and bigotry to understanding and acceptance.

But then I got this email from Dick Hewetson, who read my Being an Atheist in the Queer Community piece, and made this point:

As you have, I have discovered that freethinkers are consistently my friends. Yet the [LGBT] movement people seem reluctant to acknowledge all the support they receive from atheist and humanists groups. But they will gush all over an individual congregation or clergy person who stands up for us. I just find it tiresome.

And I got mad all over again.

I got mad, because until I got his email, the "gushing" issue hadn't occurred to me. And now I can't get it out of my mind.

Why is it that, when religious leaders and groups finally come around and say or do something marginally nice about queers, the LGBT community falls all over itself in gratitude... but the godless community, one of the staunchest and most vocal supporters of queer rights outside the queer community itself, gets almost no recognition for their support?

Why is it that leaders and organizations in the LGBT community are bending over backwards to do outreach to religious groups -- including religious groups who are lukewarm on our issues at best and downright hostile at worst -- but virtually no mention is ever made of reaching out to the godless community, who already runs like crazy with our issues and would almost certainly love to run with them some more?

I want to give you a little taste of what this support looks like before I move on. I want to give you a sense of just how supportive the atheist community has been of the queer movement... so you can get an idea of why it ticks me off so much when that community get ignored or dissed.

From Ebonmuse at Daylight Atheism, Hate-Crime Laws and Loving the Sinner:

The question is, given the demonstrable falsehood of their stated premises, what's the real reason why religious right groups are so adamantly opposed to hate crime laws? If it's true, as they say, that they "hate the sin and love the sinner", one would think that they would support laws that give LGBT people more legal protection against crimes of bias.

The obvious answer is that they truly do hate homosexuals and want to preserve their right to discriminate against them.

From Hemant Mehta at Friendly Atheist, You Say We're Redefining Marriage? You're Redefining Love:

I say this to the religious people who oppose marriage equality:

You think we're redefining marriage?

How can you accuse us of that when you've done something far worse?

You redefined love.

"Love the sinner, hate the sin"? Please…

For you, "love" means making sure gay people cannot adopt a child who needs a home.

For you, "love" means stripping away the marital status of gay couples who were legally married in California before Proposition 8 took effect.

For you, "love" means accepting someone only if they never act on their sexuality.

From PZ Myers at Pharyngula, Priorities:

We really do have a screwed up culture. Carrie Prejean, Miss California USA, could publicly argue for continued denial of civil rights to gays on air, in a beauty pageant, and pageant officials were unperturbed. Now that semi-nude modeling photos of Prejean are emerging, they are considering revoking her title. So flaunting her bigotry is no big deal, but posing in lingerie makes them clutch their pearls and squeak in horror?

From Ed Brayton at Dispatches from the Culture Wars, Orson Scott Card Goes Off the Deep End on Gay Marriage:

Until a few years ago, I'd never even heard of Orson Scott Card. I'm not a science fiction reader, so I'd never read his many books, some of which my friends tell me are quite good if you like that genre. But after watching him make a complete fool of himself over the last few years with his ignorant ravings on evolution and homosexuality, I find him to be one of the most contemptible writers I've ever come across.

You really must see the absolutely unhinged claims he makes about gay marriage in an article in the Mormon Times, wherein he calls for outright revolution if the government allows gays to get married.

And finally, from Zee Harrison at Black Woman Thinks, Homophobic Jamaican Prime Minister:

Here is an example of the damage caused by ignorance, religion and politicians who profit from maintaining the status quo. Dangerous. I know these views are prevalent in many societies not just Jamaica, but for the Prime Minister to promote homophobia and then clumsily try to squirm his way around it with a pile of words that could be described as nothing other than bullshit is revealing.

All of these bloggers are -- to the best of my knowledge -- straight. And these excerpts are just a drop in the bucket. All of these bloggers write frequently and at length on queer issues... as do many, many other non- queer atheists. I didn't have to dig for these links and quotes: every one of them was posted just in the last month. (BTW: If you have other examples you'd like to link to -- from your own atheist blog or from others -- please feel free to quote them/ link to them in the comments.)

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Of all the communities and worlds I've been a part of, the atheist movement is by far the one where I've felt most strongly that straight people had my back. It's the one where I've felt most strongly that straight people were not only supporting and accepting of my queerness, but passionately and pro-actively concerned about queer rights.

And it ticks me off that they're not getting recognition for it.

I want to illustrate this point with a story. And, in an irony that I'm sure you'll all find vastly entertaining, the story I want to illustrate it with comes from the Bible.

You all know the story of the Prodigal Son. Son demands his share of his dad's inheritance; squanders it all on weed and strippers and video games; gets stuck working as a fry cook in a McDonald's. Son slinks back home to Dad, says he knows he fucked up, says he doesn't expect his old room back but asks if he can sleep in the garage. Dad embraces him, throws a big barbecue to celebrate his return. Dad's other son, the non- prodigal one, gets pissy and resentful, pointing out that he's been a good son and has worked hard for years in Dad's chicken processing plant, and yet Dad never threw any barbecues for him. Dad says, "Chill out, dude. Your brother's back. Be happy. Here, have a burger."

Now, I've always thought that the older brother had a point. Yes, he's being a little pissy; yes, he should celebrate and be happy that his brother came home. But he has a point. If he's telling the truth -- if his father never did throw him any sort of party or give him any recognition of his hard work and devotion -- then that's messed up.

Don't get me wrong. Of course the prodigal son should get a party. The messed-up part isn't that the prodigal son is getting a party. The messed-up part is that the non-prodigal son never did. The messed-up part is that the son who consistently does the right thing without being asked gets less appreciation than the son who acts like a big dumb jerk but then comes around.

Do you see where I'm going with this?

I'm not saying that the LGBT community shouldn't be reaching out to religious groups, shouldn't be expressing appreciation when said groups help us out or come around to a more queer- positive outlook. I'm saying that the LGBT community should also be reaching out to the godless community... and should be acknowledging the extensive support that the godless community has already given and continues to give.

And I'm kind of baffled about why they don't.

The generous part of me thinks that many leaders and organizers in the LGBT community just don't know about the atheist community. They know about atheists, of course -- in recent years, we've been increasingly hard to avoid -- but they may not know that we're a community and a movement, one that's increasing in both size and organization practically every day. And they definitely may not know how passionately and actively queer- positive that community is.

But when I'm in a less generous mood, I feel like they just don't give a damn. Atheists already support them. Why should they bother to reach out to us, or even acknowledge us? And atheists aren't -- yet -- a massively powerful and well- organized political force. Why should they go to any lengths to make alliances with us? What good can we do them?

I know, I know. I sound churlish and petty. That's the problem with being the prodigal son's brother. If you don't say anything, you're a doormat; if you do say something, you come off sounding churlish and petty.

So in the interest of not just griping churlishly and pettily, I'd like to make some specific, positive suggestions of what kind of atheist recognition and outreach I'd like to see from the queer community.

I'd like for non- atheist queers to not assume that all queers have religious beliefs. In public or semi- public forums (speeches, conferences, panel discussions, email forums, etc.), where the community as a whole is being addressed, I'd like to not hear general exhortations to pray, or references to "our Creator" or "our spirituality," or whatnot. I don't pray, and I have neither a creator nor a spirituality. (If you want to talk about your own religious beliefs, of course I'm totally fine with that -- just please don't express them in a way that assumes that I share them.)

I'd like for non- atheist queers to learn about the most common bigoted myths and stereotypes about atheists. I'd like for them to not perpetuate those myths. And when they hear other people perpetuating those myths, I'd like for them to call them on it.

When LGBT organizations do outreach to religious organizations, I'd like them to at least consider doing outreach to atheist and secularist organizations as well.

When LGBT organizations are putting together panels and conferences and whatnot and are working to get diversity, I'd like for atheists to be part of that diversity mix. Especially if they're trying to get diversity of religious faiths... or if religion is going to be a central issue of the panel/ conference/ whatever.

When LGBT leaders speak publicly about the diversity of spiritual belief in our community, I'd like them to include queers with no spiritual beliefs as part of the picture.

I'd like for LGBT organizations and bloggers to have at least a couple of major atheist blogs on their radar. Pharyngula at a bare minimum -- or, if Pharyngula is too snarky for them, Friendly Atheist. I'd like them to read the blogs, send good stories their way, put them on their blogrolls, give them some link love.

I'm sure there's more. (If you can think of more, please speak up in the comments.) But that'll do for now.

Because you know what?

We've been good sons.

We've been helpful and supportive. We can be even more helpful and supportive if the LGBT community works more directly with us.

And we deserve our barbecue.

Other stories in this series:
Being an Atheist in the Queer Community
How to be an Ally with Atheists

"An Actual Lesbian Girlfriend," Or, Why You Should Never Listen to Dan Savage About Bisexuality

This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

Usually, when I write about a Dan Savage "Savage Love" sex advice column, it's with respect and admiration. It's usually with a strong desire to share his ideas more widely, and to expand on those ideas with my own.

Not this time.

This time, I am smacking Mr. Savage across the head, and telling to stop acting like a twit.

In a recent column (well, recent when I originally wrote this piece), Savage compiled a sampler of questions from students on his recent tour of universities. And among them was this question:

"I'm a lesbian, and my girlfriend is bisexual and wants to have a three-way with a man. This makes me nervous. What should I do?"

Savage's advice?

"Get yourself a refillable Xanax prescription, or get yourself an actual lesbian girlfriend."

WTF?!?

This advice is so irresponsible it made my jaw drop. But because the advice is so terse -- and because the snark- to- content ratio is so disproportionately high -- it's a little hard to tease out its actual content, and the actual intent behind it. Near as I can tell, though, it seems to be one of the following three things. All of which suck.

Lesbians should beware of relationships with bisexual women, since bi women will leave lesbians for men. In a relationship between a lesbian and a bi woman, this will always be a irreparable source of anxiety. Lesbians are better off with other lesbians -- they're more reliable.

Right. And no lesbian in the history of Lesbonia has ever left her lover for another woman.

I have never been able to figure this one out. Why is it so intolerable for a lesbian to be left for a man, or for a gay man to be left for a woman? Why is this so radically different from being left for another woman, or another man? Dumpage is dumpage. Why should the genitals of the person you're being dumped for make any difference?

Maybe Savage has fallen prey to the myth that bisexuals can't be monogamous or satisfied in a relationship, because they'll always be yearning for the gender they don't have. If so... does he have any evidence for that? Is there any reason to think that being hot for both women and men makes you restless and cheaty, any more than being hot for both blonds and brunettes does?

And is there any evidence for the idea -- one that Savage has asserted before, with no apparent basis in actual research -- that bisexuals are more likely to wind up in opposite- sex relationships than same- sex ones?

The snark here is especially puzzling because, in this very column, Savage answers a more general question about three-ways with a thoughtful and fair reply. Question:

"We are a couple in a long-term committed relationship and have casually considered the possibility of a three-way. It would have to be with someone neither of us knew (or saw) to reduce any chance of an emotional attachment. Good idea?"

Savage's advice:

"Three-ways with complete strangers are kind of difficult to arrange -- unless you're willing to go the rent-a-third route. But if you want to have a three-way with someone trustworthy and safe, you're better off doing it with an acquaintance or an ex."

A reasonable answer. A bit broad, could have used some clarification; but fine for a column of quickies. And his quickie response shows a basic respect for both the questioner and their partner, and for both of their sexual desires. Why doesn't the bisexual girlfriend get the same respect?

So. That's Option 1. Option 2:

Lesbians should beware of relationships with bisexual women, since the bi women will try to get them to do sexual things -- like FFM three-ways -- that the lesbians don't want to do.

Right. And no lesbian in the history of lesbianicity has ever pressured her lover to do sexual things she doesn't want.

If your bisexual girlfriend wants to have a three- way with a man, and it's not your thing, then say, "No." Or, if you're non-monogamous, say, "No, I don't want to, but you go knock yourself out with some other partner." Or, if the idea doesn't completely gross you out and you like to be good, giving, and game, say, "Yeah, sure, I'll give that a try."

Just like you would if your lesbian girlfriend wanted to fuck you in the ass, or wanted you to dress her up like a pony, or wanted to role-play at being Ann Coulter and Martha Stewart -- or wanted to do a three-way with another woman -- and it's not your thing.

What does that have to do with bisexual versus lesbian?

If Mr. Savage wouldn't advise anyone else to break up with their partner solely because of their unshared interest in ass play or pony play or Coulter play... why is he advising this woman to break up with her bisexual girlfriend, solely because of her unshared interest in MFF three-way play?

Finally, Option 3:

None of the above -- at least, not clearly or explicitly. Dan Savage just has a bug up his butt about bisexuals, and he enjoys yanking our chain and watching us jump.

If that's it, then good job. Well done. Here I am, Mr. Savage, along with probably lots of other bisexuals, jumping at the yank of your chain. If you wanted to make Serak the Bisexual cry, mission accomplished.

But is that really a mission you want to accomplish?

Do you really want to convey misinformation about bisexuals -- especially to college students, many of whom are only beginning to figure out sex and their own sexual identity -- just so you can have fun watching us get ticked off?

Let me ask you this, Mr. Savage. If you read a sex advice columnist who deliberately spread harmful sexual myths about gay men, just because he had a grudge against them and took pleasure in provoking them... how would you react? Would you think, "Oh, that cut-up, he has such a wacky sense of humor"? Or would you think he was acting like a bigoted, irresponsible, manipulative twit?

See, the other bug that Savage seems to have up his butt about bisexuals is that we take ourselves too seriously, and don't have a sense of humor about being goaded. Unlike everybody else on the planet -- and definitely unlike every other marginalized group -- we get annoyed when people deliberately poke at our sore spots with a stick. How unreasonable of us.

The bisexuals I know have a great sense of humor -- about bisexuality among other things. But yes, freakishly enough, when you prick us, we bleed. When you poison our reputation, we suffer. And when you wrong us, we may not revenge, but we fucking well are going to squawk about it.

It's the phrase "actual lesbian girlfriend" that really frosts my cookies. I have been an actual girlfriend to my sweetheart -- also female, also bisexual -- for over eleven years. Technically, I suppose I'm not her "actual girlfriend" anymore, since we've gotten married -- three times, in fact -- and I'm now her "actual wife." But the fact that I am an actual bisexual wife instead of an actual lesbian wife has exactly zero impact on my love, my loyalty, my passionate devotion to her, and my commitment to our relationship.

And I have more than paid my dues for the LGBT community. I've worked for shitty pay for LGBT community businesses; I've donated money to LGBT organizations; I've written at length, over the entire course of my career, about LGBT issues. I am not Them. I am Us. And I am tired of gays and lesbians treating me like a Them simply because I have crushes on both Rachel Maddow and Alan Rickman.

I don't know what your issues are with bisexuals, Mr. Savage. I don't know whether you got dumped for a woman by a bi guy and got your heart stomped, or what. And I don't care. You're acting like a twit. You've acted like a twit about this issue for as long as I've been reading you. Get over it.

You're a sex advisor. As such, you have a responsibility to base your advice on reality -- not on your personal biases or vendettas. Try this for a quickie answer to the question: "Relax. If you don't want a MFF three-way, say 'No.' Just like you would with any other sexual request you're not interested in." Or, if you want to be more nuanced, try this: "What exactly are you nervous about? Are you afraid she'll leave you if you say 'No'? Or if you say 'Yes'? Figure out what you're nervous about. Tell your girlfriend. Find out where she's coming from with this and how important it is to her. And work it out."

See? Was that so hard?

You're a sex advisor. You're usually a good one. Act like one. Don't give advice that misinforms people -- especially young people -- about bisexuals, just because you have some weird bug up your ass about us. Get over it already.

One Night Stand: A Review

Something from the archives today. This review was written for Alt.com. FYI: This piece includes references to my personal tastes in porn; family members and others who don't want to read about that, please don't read this piece.

Real dyke porno.

God, I love it.

Porn aficionados may know Fatale Video as one of the first producers of "by lesbians for lesbians" video porn (and of the groundbreaking "Bend Over Boyfriend"). They were making feminist indie porn in the '80s and '90s, way back before it was cool. (Conflict of interest alert: I worked for Fatale and its sister company On Our Backs, well over a decade and a half ago, and I performed in one of their videos.)

Lately, Fatale has taken to distributing adult lesbian videos from other filmmakers, making indie dyke porno available to a wider audience. And this business model is being put to excellent use with their latest release, One Night Stand (Pour Une Nuit). A queer/ dyke/ tranny-boi porno from France, One Night Stand is an intense, authentic, raunchy porno, with a kinky sensibility, an emphasis on immediacy and heat, and a gritty, arty, urban feel.

The look of One Night Stand is not slick -- but it's not amateurish, either. The grainy hand-held look gives it the raunchy, entertainingly dirty feel of an amateur porno shot in someone's basement.... but it was filmed by someone who clearly gives a shit about filmmaking and knows their way around a camera. The lighting has a tough, urban look without being harsh or shadowy. And the shaky hand-held-ness is done expertly, always in the service of capturing the eroticism and energy of the scene.

In other words, you get the best of both worlds. You get the authentic, passionate, in- your- face realism that's so appealing about amateur porn... with the skill and artistry of professional work. In some ways, "One Night Stand" looks even grittier and shakier than a lot of amateur videos... what with it not having been shot by a single static camera stuck on a tripod. But it's also striking and beautiful, with the strong, sensual impact of a real movie that most amateur pornos are missing.

(The rest of this review contains explicit adult material. If you're under the legal age to read adult material in your area, do not click through to read the rest of the piece.)

What Women Want, and the Myth of the Psychic Lesbians

Please note: This piece includes some references to my personal sex life and sexual history. Family members and other who don't want to read that, please don't. This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

So. "What women want."

This New York Times article has been making the rounds. The one about scientific research on what women really want sexually. I wrote about it myself, focusing on the more sciency aspects of the article.

Today, I want to talk about something else.

I want to talk about the myth of lesbian sexual infallibility.

And I want to talk about the fundamental flaw inherent in the very question, "What do women want?"

The Times article got me thinking about this very pervasive myth about sexuality, one that I held myself for many years. (I hate those, don't you? I always get more cranky about misconceptions that I once believed.)

The myth is this:

Lesbian sex is better than straight sex... because who knows better how to make love to a woman than another woman? Who knows a woman's body better than another woman? Who knows what sex and arousal and orgasm feel like to a woman, better than another woman?

Okay. So. Can anybody tell me the flaw in this myth? You, there. Making out at the back of the class. What's the flaw?

That's right. Gold star for you. The flaw in this myth is:

Women are not identical.

Oddly enough, different women are, you know -- different. We have different sexual responses, and we like different things in bed.

So being a woman does absolutely nothing to provide us with a magical golden key to the heart of female sexuality. There is no heart of female sexuality. There are only female sexualities. And they're all really different.

Example. Back in my younger days, I occasionally had sex with guys who prided themselves on knowing women's bodies... and in particular, on knowing how gently women liked to be touched. And I had to practically smack these guys across the nose with a rolled- up newspaper and scream, "Will you please just pinch my fucking nipples already? Harder. No, harder. No, really. Harder. Thank you. Sheesh."

And this -- incompetence? Cluelessness? No, that's too harsh. Let's call it temporary inexperience -- doesn't just apply to men. My own early fumbling sexual experiences with women were more than enough to demolish the myth of lesbian infallibility. The story of my first one- on- one sexual encounter with another woman would be depressing and pathetic if it weren't so funny.

And it'd be depressing and pathetic if it didn't have a happy ending: namely, the rest of my life, in which I've figured out a lot more about sex with women (and men, for that matter) than I knew in my early 20s. And in which I've gotten a lot more comfortable just asking my partners, "So, what do you like?"

Which is really the point here.

We aren't born knowing how to have sex. Or at any rate, we aren't born knowing how to have good sex. And we double certainly aren't born knowing how to have good sex with this particular person, the one we're having sex with right this minute.

Now, there is actually some evidence that lesbian and gay male couples may, on average, have more satisfying sex lives than opposite- sex couples. The Masters and Johnson study on sexual satisfaction in lesbian, gay, and straight couples (cited in the book "Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex") is Exhibit A.

But if you look at that research, you'll see that the reason for this pattern isn't that lesbians have some sort of psychic insight into what other women like. (Or ditto for gay men.) In fact, it's the exact opposite. The research showed that same-sex couples -- of both genders -- were more likely to take their time. They were more likely to pay close attention to their partner's pleasure and sexual responses, and in fact to get their own arousal from it. They were more likely to lavish attention on their partner's whole bodies, not just their genitals. And they were much more likely to talk easily, openly, and more often about what kinds of sexual activities they did and didn't enjoy.

In other words: If lesbian sex really is better than straight sex, it's not because lesbians "know what women want." It's because lesbians take the time to learn what their lovers, specifically, want. (Why that is, I don't know. Harebrained speculation available on request.)

There are certainly some broad differences between female and male sexual responses. I wouldn't deny that. Women tend, on average, to take more time getting aroused than men. Women tend, on average, to take more time reaching orgasm than men. Women tend, on average, to be less likely than men to come purely from penis- in- vagina intercourse. If you believe the study reported in the Times article, women tend, on average, to have a greater disparity than men between what arouses them physically and what arouses them mentally. Etc. Male and female sex organs are different -- obviously -- and even if there were no psychological/ emotional/ cultural issues in how women and men are taught to feel and behave around sex, those physical differences are still, well, going to make a difference. If you're going to be a good lover -- whether you're having sex with women or men, whether you yourself are a woman or a man -- a little Sexual Anatomy 101 should definitely be on the agenda.

But these differences are generalizations. Tendencies on average. Overlapping bell curves. There are, for instance, some women who get aroused quickly. Who have no trouble coming. Who love to get fucked, and get off from it. Etc.

There is no universal "what women want."

And in any case... women aren't born knowing that stuff, any more than men are.

I think the myth of lesbian sexual infallibility tends to let straight men off the hook. It's like, "How can I ever know what my lover/ wife likes in bed? I'll never know how what sex feels like to her! I don't even have a pussy! It's hopeless!"

Well. Let's see. You could try doing what I did when I was first having sex with women. You could read up on female sexual anatomy. You could read up on common patterns of female sexual arousal.

But if you really want to know what women want, I suggest you ask the one you're in bed with.

Or the one you have bent over the kitchen table. Tied to the doorframe. Standing over you with a whip in her hand. On the floor with your face between her legs.

I'm not particular.

Why Do Queers Leave Religion?

So why do queers leave religion?

Is it because religion has let us down? Is it because so much traditional religion is so grotesquely homophobic? Is it because priests molest children and the Catholic Church blames it on gays; because the Mormon Church spent millions to block same-sex marriage in California; because the evangelical Christian Right has used revulsion and fear of homosexuality to advance their political agenda?

Or is there, perhaps, another reason?

There was a recent article in The Advocate from out lesbian deacon Lisa Larges, arguing that LGBT people should not leave their religion and treat it as an enemy, but should instead stay in the churches and other religious organizations and fight for gay rights within them.

Much of what she writes I agree with (I certainly don't object to the idea of fighting against homophobia in organized religion). And some of it I take issue with, but am willing to let slide for the purposes of this post.

But this has really stuck in my craw:

Let’s also say, while we're still here in the first paragraph, that whatever the church or its representatives did to you -- whatever abuse, whatever violation of trust, whatever was said to make you believe that you were not a child of God in your whole beautiful queer self, whatever the silence in which you did not hear how infinitely and immeasurably God loves you -- whatever drove you out of the church is simply inexcusable.

Okay. Deep breath. Calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean.

Here is the problem.

I am sick unto death of non-believers being treated like sad lost sheep or wounded birds. I am sick unto death of my atheism being treated like an illness to be cured. I am sick unto death of my atheism being treated like a tragedy.

You want to know why I don't believe that I am a child of God? You want to know why I don't believe that God infinitely and immeasurably loves me? It's not because I was abused or my trust was violated. It's not because I was wounded or stunted by my religious upbringing (I didn't have one). It's not because so much traditional religion is so hateful and damaging to queers.

It's because I don't believe in God.

Period.

And you know what? My atheism is not a source of weakness or sadness. In fact, it is a source of great strength and joy. I was able to leave religious belief when I became strong enough to stop hanging onto ideas simply because I found them comforting, even though they weren't supported by any good evidence. I was able to leave religious belief when I was able to say that the joy of this life is enough, and that I don't need to believe in an eternal after-life to find more than enough meaning and happiness in this ephemeral one. And being part of the growing atheist community has become one of the great joys of my life: a source of education, insight, friendship, mind- expansion, and just flat- out giggles.

Besides -- it's just not that hard to find queer- positive churches. A quick Google search on the phrase "gay churches" turns up over seven million hits, with two separate directories of gay- friendly churches coming up in the top three, and the MCC coming right behind that. Any LGBT believer with a computer who's mad at their conservative church has access to these resources. It's harder if they're in Rural Nowhere, to be sure; but it's just not that hard to figure out that you don't have to hate queers to be Christian. If somebody really wants those options, they'll find them... or at the very least, they'll find that they exist.

The idea that people become atheists because they're angry at God or religion is one of the most insidious myths that are held about us. (In fact, it's Number 7 on my Eleven Myths About Atheists.) It's the kind of thing that people like Rick Warren say about us. And it's flatly untrue. Atheists -- queer, straight, whatever -- aren't angry with God, any more than we're angry with Zeus, unicorns, or the Tooth Fairy. We don't believe in God. That's the whole point of being an atheist. You can't be angry with something that you don't believe exists.

It's true that anger is sometimes a starting point for a journey out of religion. Like I said in my Eleven Myths piece: The realization that religious leaders were lying to them; the growing awareness that religion doesn't deliver on what it promises; the sense that if an all- powerful God really existed he'd be a sadistic bastard... any or all of this can be the first crack in the foundation of religious belief. And it's certainly true that LGBT people have more reasons than most to be royally pissed about religion. If anger about religion's cruelties and hypocrisies is sometimes the first step to the understanding that the emperor has no clothes, it shouldn't be surprising to find disproportionate numbers of queers in the Naked Emperor Brigade. (If indeed we are... which I'm not at all sure of.)

But people who leave religious belief don't generally leave it because they're angry. People who are angry with religion, but who still believe? They tend to look for a different religion. Anger may be the starting point for rejecting religion... but from my observation and experience, it is rarely the final straw. People don't leave religion because they're angry. They leave because they've become convinced that religion isn't supported by any solid evidence, and doesn't really make any sense. They leave because they no longer believe.

You want to know how the churches have failed us? They've failed to provide convincing evidence for God's existence.

You want to know what the churches can do to bring us back? Come up with some better evidence, or some better arguments.

And in the meantime, please stop treating us like sad, wounded victims, who don't understand that God loves us.

Similar posts:
Being an Atheist in the Queer Community
How To Be An Ally with Atheists

My Very First Orgy, and What I Learned There

Please note: This piece, and the piece it links to, discusses my personal sex life and my sexual history in quite a bit of detail. Family members and others who don't want to read that, please don't.

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about the first time I ever went to an orgy; how it came about; and what I learned from the experience. The piece is called My Very First Orgy, and What I Learned There, and here's the teaser:

There is nothing quite like walking into a dorm room with six naked people having sex together in a pile on the floor. Especially when one of them is your boyfriend. I had a brief moment of -- well, "shock" is too strong a word, let's call it "sudden adjustment" or "category error" -- as the reality of the situation was rather crudely borne in on me. Then I decided, "What the fuck, this is what I'm here for," hurriedly shucked my clothes, and joined in.

And I learned two very important life lessons: lessons that stay with me to this day.

To find out more about the pile of naked bodies on the floor and the important life lessons I learned there (no, really!), read the rest of the piece. Enjoy! (Oh, and if you decide to comment on this post in this blog, would you consider cross-posting your comment on the Blowfish Blog as well? They like comments there, too.)

On Having and Eating Cake: Rick Warren, the New Google World, and the Concept of the Apology

So. As you may have already heard (I got it from about a hundred blogs, here it is on Pam's House Blend), pastor Rick Warren, of Obama inauguration fiasco fame, whined in a recent interview with Larry King that he is being unfairly targeted as a hater of Teh Gays... and actually claimed in said interview that he never endorsed Prop 8 (the 2008 anti- same- sex ballot initiative in California), and never equated same-sex marriage with pedophilia or incest.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. Pam's House Blend has the evidence and the links, as do about a hundred other blogs -- I don't feel a compelling need to repost them here.

So. Insert the obvious "Liar, liar, pants on fire" rant here. But that's not actually what I want to talk about today. Here -- in addition to "Liar, liar, pants on fire" -- is what I want to say.

We no longer live in a world where you can say, "I never said that."

We just don't. If you said it -- on camera, on a radio show, in an interview with the press, in a letter to the editor, or heck, even in a blog comment -- somebody will find it. We live in a searchable, Google-able world, and if you've ever said anything in an even remotely public setting -- and you then try to deny that you said it -- somebody will be able to find it, and call you on it. (I occasionally worry about this myself vis a vis my dreams of being a Famous Writer, as I don't always watch my snark on places like Pharyngula... but oh well. Whaddya gonna do.)

So if you're trying to backpedal from something you said that's alienating people, "I never said that" is simply not an option.

Therefore, I would like to advise Rick Warren, and for that matter anyone in the public eye, to familiarize themselves with the concept of the "apology."

An "apology," according to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, is "an admission of error or discourtesy accompanied by an expression of regret." It's what you say when you've said something wrong or hurtful, and you don't people to be ticked off at you about it. Or, in extreme cases, when you actually feel bad about what you said/did and want to express that.

The best form of apology, of course, and the one we would like to see from Rick Warren, is the genuine one. "I'm sorry that I hurt people. I said/did those things, and I'm sorry I said/did them. I was mistaken, I've been educated on this topic, I now understand better, and I've since changed my mind."

But if that's not feasible for whatever reason, the half-assed non-apology is always an option. The "I'm sorry people were upset by this" apology. The "I haven't changed my mind and am not willing to admit I was wrong, but I don't like the fact that everyone's mad at me, and since I know I'm a nice person and yet everyone's still mad at me they all must have misunderstood my intentions, and so I'm going to apologize because my publicist tells me I have to" apology.

And Warren hasn't even managed to do that. He's still -- in this instant- information, no-hiding New Google World -- trying to get away with "I never said that."

So here's what I think.

If Warren were really trying to shift the public perception of him as a bigoted, homophobic schmuck, pretending he never said those things is not going to fly. Apologizing for them is the only way to go. And he has to know that. He's not a complete moron. A partial moron, yes, but not a complete one. And whatever else you say about the guy, you can't accuse him of not being media-savvy.

So I don't think he is trying to shift public perception of him as a homophobic bigot.

I think he's trying to have it both ways. He's trying to suck up to the rabidly homophobic extreme Christian right, which is his base -- while still trying to stay in the good graces of more mainstream Americans, who have somewhat more tolerant attitudes towards gays and lesbians than the extreme Christian right, and whose attitudes are becoming more LGBT- friendly every year... and who are the ones buying his books in droves.

If he were serious about mending the rift with LGBTs and our friends and families, he'd have issued an apology. At least a half-assed non-apology. At least for the "pedophilia and incest" remark. But he's not. He's trying to get away with "I didn't really say that"... which conveniently evades responsibility for saying whether he really thinks it. (At least, it would if it still worked.)

So since he hasn't apologized -- even half-assedly -- I can only assume that he is perfectly happy to let his hardcore extreme right-wing base go on thinking of him as a hater like them, while trying to come across to Middle America as a nice guy who love Teh Gays but just doesn't think we should re-define marriage away from the biblical definition of one man, six hundred women one woman. Or at least, trying to plant sufficient doubts in Middle America's mind about it.

I'm just saying, is all.

Perpetrators and Victims: Religion and "Marjoe"

So when it comes to the harm done by religion, who are the perpetrators, and who are the victims?

Ingrid and I were watching the movie "Marjoe" the other day. Fascinating movie, and an absolute must-see for anyone interested in religion. It's a documentary about an revivalist preacher, Marjoe Gortner, who had been a celebrated child preacher, gaining fame as "the youngest ordained preacher" at age four. By the time he grew up, he no longer believed any of it, and he left it behind for a while -- but when this documentary was made, he was back working the Pentecostal revival- meeting circuit, whipping the crowds into a frenzy to scam them out of hundreds or thousands of dollars. He arranged for this documentary to be made, largely to expose the widespread fraud and deceit in this particular branch of religion... and, to some extent, to ensure that he could never go back to this life, a life that was easy and tempting but that he found morally intolerable.

It's a fascinating movie for a lot of reasons. (FYI, it won the Academy Award for "Best Documentary" for 1972.) But in particular, it reminded me of something I've been wanting to talk about for a while; one of the things that makes atheist critiques of religion so complicated and emotionally loaded.

It's this:

The people who are perpetrating the harmful things about religion are, for the most part, also its victims.

And vice versa.

The people who traumatize their young children with vivid and horrific images of hell were, themselves, traumatized by those horrors. The religious leaders who fill their flocks with close-minded ignorance and hateful bigotry were, themselves, taught that ignorance and bigotry are divine virtues, dearly treasured by God. The people who are warping the sexuality of their kids and teenagers, filling them with guilt and shame over normal healthy feelings, were, themselves, warped in this same way.

And vice versa. The people who were warped and stunted and scarred are now doing the warping and stunting and scarring. The perpetrators are victims: the victims are perpetrators.

Marjoe is a perfect example. Until he decided to leave his ministry and make this documentary, he was essentially a pure charlatan: someone who made money off religion and people's gullible belief in it, without believing a word of it himself. And it wasn't unconscious self-deception and rationalization on his part; it was entirely conscious. He did things like put a special ink on his forehead to make a cross appear when he started to sweat; he sold "prayer cloths" and other religious swag with the promise that they would provide miracles; and the tricks he used to get people to donate more money were 100% deliberately manipulative. He knew every angle of this scam, inside and out: he talked about it at great length and in articulate detail, and even made jokes about it. If it weren't for the fact that he made this documentary with the intention of exposing the scam -- and of making it impossible for himself to ever return to it -- he'd be a thoroughly despicable character.

But Marjoe himself was very much a victim of this brand of religion. He was brought up into this life; taught how to preach from age three by parents who used his talents to make millions... not a dime of which he ever saw. He was threatened and coerced by his parents into performing: not just with the threat of Satan and hell, but with physical abuse. And he never got a formal education of any kind... so by the time he decided to quit preaching, he was unqualified to do anything else. No, preaching was not a sincere calling for him, it was nothing more than a way to make a living. He didn't know any other way. How do you switch career paths when you not only don't have a high school diploma, but have never even gone to school?

Perpetrator, or victim?

Now, let's look at a different example for a moment. Let's look at someone who's clearly closer to the "perpetrator" end of this spectrum. Let's look at Ted Haggard. Liar. Fraud. Hypocrite. Evil bastard.

And victim.

If Ted Haggard had been born and raised into a religion that taught love and acceptance for gay people -- or, for that matter, if he'd been born into no religion at all -- do you think he'd be the lying, fraudulent, hypocritical, evil bastard he is today? Do you think he'd be quite so full of obvious self- loathing... so full that he had to turn it against others? Do you think he'd have become quite so skilled at mental contortions... so skilled that the contortions just seemed natural, and straightforward thinking seemed like the voice of Satan? Do you think he'd have become quite so adept at the deceit of himself and others... so adept that it became a way of life?

I don't know. Maybe. Gay people can be brought up in gay- positive households, and still grow up to be jerks. And gay people can be brought up in hatefully homophobic upbringings, and still get themselves the hell out of Dodge. But it's impossible for me to look at both Ted Haggard and Marjoe Gortner, and not see both of them as both perpetrators and victims. And it's hard not to think that the main difference is simply that Haggard drank the Kool-Aid. It was Marjoe's conscious insincerity that ultimately led him to choose moral integrity; it's Haggard's apparently unconscious self- deception that's enabled him to keep living a lie... and to keep passing that lie along to others.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. Other than the obvious, namely: What a gigantic clusterfuck. What a huge, messy, impossibly complicated moral and emotional tangle.

I do think that, barring extreme circumstances like mental illness, adults are responsible for their behavior. I'd even argue that the very definition of adulthood is that you don't get to blame everything you do on your poor sad upbringing. So I'm not saying that every instance of religious fraud, bigotry, and brutality should be forgiven simply because the perpetrator is a victim as well.

But I also think that, when atheists are talking with believers, or when we're writing stuff that we expect to be read by believers, we need to bear this stuff in mind, and try to have some compassion and empathy even when we're at our most critical. Especially when we're dealing with folks who believe in the more damaging versions of belief. I'm not saying we should always play nice and never say harsh truths -- far from it. I'm saying that even the worst perpetuators of hurtful religious belief aren't cartoon villains. They're human beings, who have been damaged by religion even as they perpetuate that damage. We won't get far if we don't remember that.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. But I do know that, for me, thinking of religion this way -- as a continually self- perpetuating chain of victimization and perpetration -- doesn't make me less passionate about working to persuade people out of it. If anything, it makes me more passionate. It makes me both angrier and more compassionate -- angrier at religion, more compassionate with the religious -- both of which fuel my passion as an atheist activist. It makes me more eager to make atheism more visible... so more people can see it as an option, earlier in their lives, when there's a better chance for the cycle to be broken.

"An Actual Lesbian Girlfriend," Or, Why You Should Never Listen to Dan Savage About Bisexuality: The Blowfish Blog

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about a recent sex advice column by Dan Savage: a writer who I usually like and respect, but who gets it wildly and insultingly wrong about bisexuals (a pattern he's had for as long as I've been reading him, and one that makes me want to tear my hair out).

The piece is called "An Actual Lesbian Girlfriend," Or, Why You Should Never Listen to Dan Savage About Bisexuality, and here's the teaser:

In a recent column, Savage compiled a sampler of questions from students on his recent tour of universities. And among them was this question:

"I'm a lesbian, and my girlfriend is bisexual and wants to have a three-way with a man. This makes me nervous. What should I do?"

Savage's advice?

"Get yourself a refillable Xanax prescription, or get yourself an actual lesbian girlfriend."

WTF?!?

This advice is so irresponsible it made my jaw drop. But because the advice is so terse -- and because the snark- to- content ratio is so disproportionately high -- it's a little hard to tease out its actual content, and the actual intent behind it. Near as I can tell, though, it seems to be one of the following three things. All of which suck.

To find out what I think Savage might be trying to say here -- and why I think it sucks -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Greta at WonderCon Panel on Queer Women in Comics, Sat. Feb. 28

Hi, all. If you're going to be at the WonderCon comics convention in San Francisco this weekend, come by and see me. I'm going to be part of a panel discussion on Queer Women in Comics, along with Paige Braddock, Joey Alison Sayers, and Leia Weathington. Here's the whole spiel on the panel:

Queer Women in Comics: You think Alison Bechdel (Fun Home, Dykes to Watch Out For) is one of a kind? We know she's unique, but there are lots of other queer women working in comics. Paige Braddock (Jane's World), Greta Christina (Best Erotic Comics), Joey Alison Sayers (Thingpart), and Leia Weathington (Bold Riley) present a spirited discussion of what it means to be lesbian, bi-female and transgendered in comics today. Moderated by Patty Jeres, Prism Comics board co-president. Saturday, Feb. 28, 1:30 - 2:30, Room 220.

WonderCon will be at Moscone Center South in San Francisco, February 27 through March 1. Other events being hosted by Prism Comics include The Birth of "Gay Comix," Friday, February 27, 5:30 - 6:30 pm, in Room 236-238; and Self-Publishing Queer Comics, on Sunday, March 1, 2:00 – 3:00pm, in Room 220-224. See you there! And if you come to the panel, come by afterward and say hi! I always like to meet my blog readers. Especially when they're in costume.

"Milk" and the Joy of Sex

Since the Oscars are coming up, and "Milk" has been nominated for eight of them, now seems like a good time to run this piece here. This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

I realize this may come across like the welder's review of "Flashdance." But today, this sex writer wants to talk about the depiction of sex in "Milk."

Because it was so strikingly different from the way sex gets depicted in almost every major Hollywood movie.

Not just different. Better. Way, way better.

You've no doubt heard about "Milk," the new biopic about the history- making San Francisco gay activist and city supervisor Harvey Milk, directed by Gus Van Sant and starring Sean Penn. If you haven't already seen it, you've probably heard that it's brilliant, that it's inspiring and moving and tear- jerking and funny, that Penn's performance is nothing short of astounding. All of which is true.

But today, just for a change, I want to talk about sex.

See, unlike most Hollywood movies about gay people, the sex in "Milk" is not downplayed. It gets a starring role. And unlike most Hollywood movies, period, sex is treated, not as a joke, not as a source of easy fearmongering and/or cheap titillation, not even as a source of dramatic angst and despair a la "Brokeback Mountain," but as a source of joy and liberation, a central part of a human life, worthy of value and respect.

(Warning: Spoiler alert. Spoilers are all over this review like a cheap suit.)

The story begins with Harvey (Sean Penn) meeting his soon- to- be lover, Scott Smith (James Franco). And they don't meet cute. They don't meet by fighting over the last chocolate cake at the bakery, or accidentally getting each other's dry cleaning, or being stuck together on a cross- country car trip. They meet when Harvey hits on Scott in a New York subway station and takes him home to fuck. (Well, I guess that's sort of meeting cute...)

The pick-up is a bittersweet scene in some ways. Harvey is a buttoned-down, closeted, middle-aged gay man who's turning 40 that day, and the hip, dishy Scott at first treats his advances with skepticism and disdain. But the pick-up is also a sexy and funny and joyful scene. And the pick-up turns into a real relationship, with the couple moving across the country to San Francisco together and soon launching Harvey's political career.

Lesson: Sex can spark love, and sex can change lives.

What's more, the reality of casual sex in the gay male community of the 1970s is handled with a rare and delightful combination: an attitude of laughing appreciation, and an attitude of "No big deal." It's not shoved behind the curtains like a dirty secret; it's not luridly flaunted for the audience to simultaneously leer and condemn. It's folded into the story as smoothly and as naturally as spices being folded into batter.

Important political alliances are started with guys flirting and trying to pick each other up. A meeting with a major gay publisher is accented with Harvey's lover swimming naked in the man's pool. Two men celebrate a major political victory by blowing each other in a broom closet. And the topic of bars and bathhouses and the anonymous sex that happens therein is woven into the dialog as casually and unapologetically as the topic of jazz in "Some Like it Hot," or the topic of spaceships in "Star Wars." It is acknowledged as a potential political liability, to be sure... but it's never treated as something to be ashamed of.

Lesson: This is a community, and a movement, that is built largely around sex and sexual liberation. And hooray for that.

As for the sex itself... well, there's not a huge amount of it. But when it's there, there's no turning away from it. It's not explicit, there's no full-frontal or anything. But it's lusty, and it's physical, and there's no mistaking it for anything else.

Lesson: Sex is sex. It's real, it's a part of life, and it's pointless to ignore it or pretend that it's anything other than what it is.

Finally, the contrast between the loving, joyful, full- of- laughter life of Harvey Milk and the tight, drab, out- of- touch life of his fellow supervisor and eventual assassin Dan White (Josh Brolin) is made vividly clear. And it's presented largely as a contrast between sexual repression and sexual liberation.

White's resentment of Milk is complicated, of course. His political resentment of Milk's freethinking politics and rapidly rising fortunes, his personal resentment of Milk's popularity and perceived betrayal, are all probably more crucial than the sexual issues. But a key factor in his hostility and creepy fixation with Milk -- as depicted in this movie, anyway -- is sex. His bafflement and revulsion with the sexual libertinism of 1970s San Francisco, his envy of same, possibly even his own repressed homosexual desires... all of these converge into a toxic mess that focuses onto Milk and culminates in murder and eventual suicide.

Lesson: Sexual repression destroys. Literally.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this. I think I'm just trying to say: You have to see "Milk." Not just because it's brilliant and insightful and beautifully- made. If you're at all interested in sexuality -- in the history of sexual liberation, or the influence of sex on political and social history, or the depictions of sex in popular culture -- you have to see "Milk."

Trust me on this one.

What Women Want, and the Myth of the Psychic Lesbians

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It ties together the notion that lesbians naturally know how to please another woman sexually better than straight men, with the age-old question, "What do women want?" It's called What Women Want, and the Myth of the Psychic Lesbians, and here's the teaser:

I want to talk about the myth of lesbian sexual infallibility.

And I want to talk about the fundamental flaw inherent in the very question, “What do women want?”

The Times article got me thinking about this very pervasive myth about sexuality, one that I held myself for many years. (I hate those, don’t you? I always get more cranky about misconceptions that I once believed.)

The myth is this:

Lesbian sex is better than straight sex . . . because who knows better how to make love to a woman than another woman? Who knows a woman’s body better than another woman? Who knows what sex and arousal and orgasm feel like to a woman, better than another woman?

Okay. So. Can anybody tell me the flaw in this myth? You, there. Making out at the back of the class. What’s the flaw?

That’s right. Gold star for you. The flaw in this myth is:

To find out the flaw in this myth, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Left-Handers Threaten Nation's Moral Fiber: Same-Sex Marriage, Handedness, and the History of Bigotry

In case you haven't noticed, this week is Freedom to Marry Week, and bloggers all around the LGBT blogosphere are blogging up a storm. Today, as my part in this blogswarm, I'm proud to feature my very first guest post in this blog -- written by my aunt, Laurie Muelder. This piece originally appeared as an opinion piece in the Galesburg Register-Mail, shortly after the November election and the passage of Prop. 8 and other anti- same- sex initiatives, under the title "Propositions limiting marriage unfortunate."

Interestingly, one characteristic of President- elect Obama's, which historically aroused vilification, has generally been disregarded. Like presidents Ford, Reagan, Bush I and Clinton, he is left- handed. In the past, and still in many parts of the world, left- handedness is viewed with suspicion and forcibly suppressed.

While learning to write Chinese characters I asked how left- handed people did this and was told "there are no left-handed people in China." In much of the Islamic world the right hand is to be used in bodily functions above the waist -- the left below. Originating in a desert country where there was little water with which to wash, this makes sense; it also reinforces scriptural prejudice against the left- hand. Lefties here who went to school in the last century have described being physically forced to become right- handed, in both public and parochial schools. Justification for this kind of bias and behavior was found in the teachings of all the Abrahamic religions, think of the sheep and goats passage in Matthew with the righteous on the right and the evil on the left. The Buddha similarly described the left- hand road as the wrong way in life.

Gradually, as human knowledge progressed and handedness was increasingly recognized as the result of brain organization, this bigotry, religious and otherwise, diminished. Although preference for the left hand has occurred in all cultures and throughout human history -- there are stone tools identified as having been used by lefties -- what varies is the response to it. In the West it is now generally regarded as unusual (10-15 percent) and sometimes inconvenient, but among educated people there is little if any outright prejudice against left- handed people.

When I first read of the negative associations with left- handedness I was reminded of the kinds of intolerance and disgust expressed about people who are physically attracted to people like themselves, (which has also occurred in all cultures and throughout human history) and I hoped that as the scientific evidence of distinct brain differences between gay and straight people became more widely known that this prejudice too would abate. I was, therefore, saddened by the passage in Arizona, Arkansas and California of propositions to limit marriage to opposite sex couples. (Arkansas voters were especially heartless ordaining that "unmarried cohabiting couples" -- a phrase aimed at gay couples -- could not adopt children; every study done has shown they make just as good parents as mixed sex couples. Surely what is most important is children having secure and loving homes with two parents who are committed each other -- I'm with Judge Judy on this!).

In California the Catholic and Mormon churches were the primary financial backers of Proposition 8 which proposed to amend the state constitution to say "only marriage between a man and a woman is valid." Eighty- three percent of evangelical Christians supported Proposition 8, which is somewhat ironic as the general population has a divorce rate 22 percent lower than the Christian Coalition; maybe they should worry about their own marriages instead of other peoples'. Black churches, which led the way in the struggle for equal rights for African- Americans, generally supported this effort to deny civil rights to their fellow citizens; more than 70 percent of blacks voted to support proposition 8. And, this week, the Peoria based Episcopal diocese of Quincy voted to leave the national church and join a South American Anglican church which shares its preference for male supremacy -- no women priests -- and their distaste for gay rights. Wasn't it Jesus who said "judge not lest ye be judged?"

Ultimately it is a question of fairness and of equal treatment under the law. The best solution would be for the government to deal only in civil marriage, leaving religious ceremonies to religious institutions, which could then decide as they wish without trying to legislate their standards and impose their rules on everyone. Some of the best arguments in favor of gay marriage come from conservative writers like New York Times columnist David Brooks, who E.J. Dionne describes as seeing "society as having a powerful interest in building respect for long- term commitment and fidelity in sexual relationships. Gay marriage underscores how important commitment is. Prohibiting members of one part of our population from making a public and legal commitment to each other doesn't strengthen marriage; it weakens it."

In California those under 30 voted 66 to 34 percent against Proposition 8. In another couple of generations the majority of Americans will be comfortable with same sex marriage and like left- handedness, homosexuality will increasingly come to be understood not so much as "unnatural" but simply as less usual in its frequency of occurrence in our population. In the meantime, if religious youth group leaders would reconsider what they are doing to the naturally gay adolescents in their flocks, perhaps teen suicide might decline.

Atheism, Stripping, and More: Greta on "Feast of Fools" Radio

I'm on the radio!

Okay, Internet radio. But hey, this is the 21st century, and Internet radio is the new black.

The "Feast of Fools" podcast is a daily talk show hosted by Fausto Fernos and Marc Felion featuring celebrity guests, artists, musicians, actors and members of the GLBT community; a roundtable discussion of unusual news, social trends and features cocktail recipes and interviews. They recently interviewed me, in a funny, lively conversation that goes all over the map: from atheist philosophy, to religion in the LGBT community, to how to hire a sex worker.

Which I guess means I'm a "celebrity" now. News to me, but I'm not complaining. When do I get to be a judge on Project Runway?

Anyway. The podcast is titled Living Without Religion, and it's past of Feast of Fools' Gay Fun Show series. Come listen to me gab!

First Time's a Charm

The piece I was originally going to post today went by the wayside (long story), so instead I'm putting up something from the archives.

This is a piece about bad sex. Specifically, it's about the first time -- well, more or less the first time -- that I had sex with another woman. What with it being a story about bad sex, I feel compelled to say two things: (1) I'm very glad I stuck with the "having sex with women" project despite a laughably bad first experience (an important lesson to remember when you're sexually experimenting), and (2) Yes, I've learned a lot since I was 24.

Please note: This piece discusses my personal sex life -- in particular, my sexual history -- in quite a bit of detail. Family members and others who don't want to read that stuff, please don't. This piece was originally published in 1997 on Fishnet.

First Time's a Charm

Okay. I was 24, which explains a lot. I had just broken up with my husband, I had just gotten into therapy, and the only time I'd ever had sex with another women had been at an orgy with my boyfriend when I was in college, which explains even more. So I answered this woman's personal ad; I don't remember now what it said, except that the headline was "Creamy Petite Asian" and the ad said she was looking for sex, not a relationship, which suited me just fine.

So we meet at the Mediterraneum, this quasi-beatnik cafe in Berkeley, and right away it's awkward city. We have pretty much nothing to say to each other -- she doesn't read much, I don't watch much TV -- and while she's reasonably attractive, she's not exactly setting off the old sprinkler system, if you know what I mean. Plus, this is maybe my second time answering a personal ad in my life. Plus, I'm acutely and grotesquely self-conscious, hyperaware of the fact that "I'm dating a woman, I'm dating a woman, I'm dating a woman," and way- hyperaware of my near- complete inexperience with said gender. Plus, this is a really shitty and difficult time in my life; I'm basically an aimless, passive, wounded bundle of neuroses, and I get awkward and tongue-tied at the drop of a hat. Plus, I want desperately to seem cool, and as we all know, wanting desperately to seem cool is pretty much an ironclad guarantee that you won't.

So there we are, drinking our coffees at the Mediterraneum, trying to find things to say to each other, with long awkward pauses in between blurts of failed communication, and lines of conversation whizzing past one another like cars on an overpass over the highway. At one point she says something about how she hasn't done this very much before, and I blurt out in a flood of relief, "I'm so glad you said that, I've hardly ever had sex with women before either," and she gives me this withering look and says, "I didn't mean that I'd never had sex with women. I've been doing that for years. I meant dating women in public." Great. Score one for Greta in the "seeming cool" portion of the competition.

Failing to find a hole in the floor of the cafe into which I can crawl and die, I sputter inanely for a bit instead and grasp for some other topic of conversation. We chat awkwardly for a bit longer, I'm trying to think of a graceful way to get the hell out of there, when she says casually:

"So, do you want to come home with me?"

HUH?

This catches me completely off guard -- or would have if I had been even remotely composed and on-guard at the time. It's definitely unexpected; with the possible exception of, "I am Anna Karenina, true ruler of the glorious Russian Empire, and there are bats in my underwear," it is pretty much the last thing I expected to hear her say.

The thing is, an honest answer would have been, "No, actually, I don't. You're not really my type, and I feel totally ill-at-ease and like a complete moronic geek- dork with this whole situation in general and with you in particular, and if you don't mind, I think I'd like to go home, bang my head against a wall for a few minutes, and then go make a big joke out of it with my housemates." On the other hand, I'm 24 and a dyke virgin (well, almost), and if I don't take her up on her offer I will never, ever, ever have another chance to have sex with another woman as long as I live. Besides, I want to seem cool -- remember? -- and saying "No" to a reasonably attractive woman you just met who wants to take you home and fuck you is definitely Not Cool. Besides, at this point in my life, I'm really bad at saying "No."

So I say, "Um... yeah. Sure. Okay."

"Great," she says. "My motorcycle's out front."

Well, at least I get a motorcycle ride out of it. Truth is, I'm actually pretty excited -- terrified of doing the wrong thing, and utterly clueless as to what the right thing might be, but excited nonetheless. It's not really a sexual excitement per se -- it's more of a getting- on- a- bus- that- you- have- no- idea- where- it's- going excitement -- but it'll certainly do for the moment. We get on her bike and head to her place in Oakland; she puts my hands down at the bottom of her belly, and I assume (wrongly, as it later turned out) that she wants me to feel her up, and I think that would be a pretty cool 'n sexy thing to do, so I try to get my hands into her pants. She's wearing skintight jeans, though, and I succeed only in working my right hand into her waistband, where it presses firmly against her bladder for the duration of the trip.

So we get to her house, and the first thing she does is flip on the radio. Lite rock, less talk. Or maybe The Quiet Storm; I forget. Right away, whatever shreds of a mood I have are blown into hamburger. There is no way in hell I can get in the mood with Christopher Cross on the radio. I drop my purse and my jacket on the floor, and stand there paralyzed in the middle of her bedroom, wondering what the hell I'm supposed to do next.

I honestly have no memory of how we got our clothes off and got into bed. I assume she managed it somehow. There's no way I could have made it happen; I was far too busy doing my imitation of a deer on the highway to have done anything so aggressive and forthright as taking my clothes off. And sadly, or perhaps mercifully, I have very little clear memory of what we actually did once we got there. I didn't have the faintest idea what I was doing, and she was offering no clues. "Asking clearly for what you want" was obviously not in this woman's vocabulary (to be fair, it obviously wasn't in mine, either). She was more of the trial-and-error, "grab something and play with it and see what happens and hope for the best" school of thought. And I sure as hell wasn't about to ask her. I wanted to seem cool -- remember? -- and saying "I feel kind of awkward and don't know what you want, why don't you tell me" seemed like the absolute pinnacle of uncool.

And telling her what I wanted was definitely out of the question. Mostly what I wanted was for her to turn the damn radio off. My memory of that evening consists mainly of awkward, start-and-stop fumblings and an acute consciousness of my own incompetence, punctuated every now and then by the awareness that yes, indeed, that really was Hall and Oates on the radio.

The one vivid memory I have of the actual sexual encounter was of me going down on her. She was very close to coming, and she started pushing back hard on my forehead, a move that I interpreted to mean, "Stop, please." So I stopped. I even patted myself on the back a little for having read her body language so well. Wrongo. Boy, howdy, was that ever the wrong thing to do. She sort of wound down, and a few minutes later she said in this kind of snide, frustrated voice, "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Stop right before someone's about to come."

"Uhhhhhh..." I retorted.

We didn't say much after that. She gave me a ride home in her truck; she kept her eyes firmly on the road, and I stared out the window and brooded. Christopher Cross came on the radio again, and she sang along as we pulled up into my driveway. "Ride, ride like the wind..." We parted with some conspicuously insincere noises about giving each other a call sometime; she vroomed away in her truck, and I hastily trotted up the stairs and into the living room where my housemates were playing gin rummy.

"So how'd your date go?" one of them asked.

I plopped down on the sofa, buried my head in my hands, and burst into giggles.

How To Be An Ally with Atheists: The Actual Thread

Readers of this blog may have noticed that the comment thread on How To Be An Ally with Atheists has gone both completely off-topic and completely toxic. Regrettably, I've had to shut the comments on that post down -- which is a shame, since I think the topic is an interesting and important one, and I'd like to hear what people have to say about it. (And yes, I am all too aware of the irony of that particular post being the one where the comments went toxic.)

So if you want to discuss the actual topic of how to be an ally with atheists, I'm providing this post as a place to do that.

Please note: Any attempts to use this thread to revive the original shut-down comment thread will result in being banned from this blog. Thank you.

Obama, Rick Warren, and the Difference between Talking and Honoring

I want to say a few words about Barack Obama.

Obama is defending the choice of the anti- choice, anti- religious- plurality, pro- assassination- of- world- leaders, red- baiting, rabidly anti-LGBT, James- Dobson- in- sheep's- clothing, lying- sack- of- crap megachurch pastor Rick Warren by saying that "it is important for America to come together, even though we may have disagreements on certain social issues." He is defending it by saying that "it has always been his goal to find common ground with people with whom you may disagree on some issues."

Here is my response.

In order to be inclusive -- in order to move beyond the politics of divisiveness and bring our country together -- is it important to talk with people you profoundly disagree with, people with opinions you find repugnant? Is it important to invite them to sit down and talk so you can try to work out your differences and find common ground?

Yes. It absolutely is. The President needs to talk with leaders of the Republican party who are trying to tear him down, with leaders of powerful political movements he opposes, with leaders of countries who despise us. No question.

But is it important to invite them to GIVE THE INVOCATION AT YOUR FREAKIN' INAUGURATION?!?!?

No. It is not.

Having someone speak at your inauguration is more than just being willing to sit down and talk with them. It is a mark of approval. It is a high honor, a thumbs-up. It is a "Heck of a job, Brownie."

And it is an honor that absolutely should not have been given to Rick Warren.

Obama supports Warren on his work with poverty and AIDS. Fine. He couldn't find a religious leader for his inaugural invocation who's done good work with poverty and AIDS... and who isn't a homophobic, anti- choice, anti- science, anti- atheist, anti- any- religion- that- doesn't- agree- with- him, pro- assassination, lying, red-baiting bigot?

I've said this before about Obama: My greatest fear about him is that he wants too badly for everybody to like him. My fear is that his palpable desire for everybody to get along -- and for everybody to get along with him -- means that he will be too tolerant of intolerance, too inclusive of divisiveness, too unwilling to take a firm principled stand that may piss some people off.

I'm beginning to think that my fears were justified.

Let there be no mistake about it. This is not just about Rick Warren's opposition to marriage equality, as the mainstream media has been pitching it. It is about his equation of homosexuality with pedophilia and incest. It is about his support of programs to "cure" LGBT people of our LGBT-ness. It is about his own acknowledgement that he ignored AIDS until the widespread orphaning of children in Africa by the epidemic was brought to his attention. It is about his absurd, patently false claim that legalizing same-sex marriage would infringe on his right of free speech.

And it's not just about his stands on LGBT issues. It's about his own assertion that the only difference between him and James Dobson is one of tone. It's about his rabid opposition to a woman's right to choose abortion, comparing abortion to the Holocaust and calling the goal of reducing the number of abortions a charade. It's about his rabid opposition to stem cell research. It's about his opinion that the U.S. assassination of Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad would be "the legitimate role of government." It's about his pretense that he doesn't get involved in electoral politics, when he sent an email to thousands of other pastors in 2004 telling them to vote for Bush. It's about his red-baiting of religious leaders who fight for social and economic justice, referring to them as "Marxists."

And -- let's not leave out the atheists -- it is about his declaration that people who don't believe in God are not fit to be President.

Should Obama be willing to talk with him?

Probably. Sure. I don't actually object to that.

But should Obama have invited him to a place of high honor at one of the most historic occasions in American history?

Absolutely not. It is a slap in the face. It puts a serious tarnish on what should have been one of the most shining days in our country's history.

(Oh, and P.S.: Before anybody leaps in with an "I told you so": I never thought Obama was going to be perfect. I knew he was going to disappoint us at some point. I knew we were going to have to hold his feet to the fire on some issues. I was just hoping I could wait until after he was actually President before that started. And I'm still not sorry I voted for him. I still hold with the harm reduction model of politics, and I still think he's going to be about a hundred times better than McCain would have been. I'm just beginning to think that my hopes for a Democratic President who might not be just another shilly- shallying suck-up to the far right were unfounded. Damn.)

How To Be An Ally with Atheists

This is a follow-up to yesterday's post on being an atheist in the queer community. But I think it will be of interest to anyone, individual or organization, who wants to be an ally with atheists and the atheist movement.

So what do atheists want from their allies?

And how can progressive non-atheist people and groups be good allies with the atheist movement?

Yesterday, I posted a piece about how difficult I was finding it to be an out atheist in the LGBT community. Since I don't like to gripe for the sake of griping without offering any solutions, today I'm offering my suggestions for what atheists want: my prescription for how progressive believers can, if they want, be supportive of atheists, and allies with the atheist movement.

A quick disclaimer first: While I suspect that a lot of atheists will more or less agree with much of this list, I really am speaking only for myself here. Atheists are notoriously independent, and they don't like having other people speak for them. (Any atheists reading this: If you have disagreements with this list or things you'd like to add, please speak up in the comments.)

1: Familiarize yourself with the common myths and misconceptions about atheists -- and don't perpetuate them.

There's a lot of misunderstanding and ignorance about who atheists are and what we do and don't believe. Needless to say, these myths and misconceptions are wrong. Don't believe them. Don't perpetuate them. Don't let them infect the way you speak and act, and please speak out against them when you hear them. Find out what we actually think and believe and do, instead of what anti- atheist propaganda says about what we think and believe and do.

Sam Harris has written a pretty good list of the most common myths about atheists, with short arguments against them. There's a touch of needless snark in the piece, IMO -- Harris can't quite resist the temptation to get in a few digs against religion when he should probably just be explaining atheism -- but overall, it gives a good, concise view of the most common misconceptions about atheism, and why, exactly, they're mistaken.

I'm just going to add one quick thing to Harris's list before I move on: The myth that atheists are 100% certain that there is no God, with a dogmatic attachment to that belief.

In reality, I've encountered almost no atheists who thought that God's existence had been definitely disproved. Atheism doesn't mean being 100% certain that God doesn't exist. It just means being certain enough. We're about as certain that Jehovah doesn't exist (or Yahweh, or Allah, or Ganesh, or the Goddess, or any of the gods that are commonly worshipped today) as we are that Zeus doesn't exist. If you don't think you're close-minded for not believing in Zeus, then please don't accuse atheists of being close-minded for not believing in your god.

2: Familiarize yourself with what it's like to be an atheist, both in the U.S. and in the rest of the world.

Discrimination against atheists, in the United States, and around the world, is very real. It doesn't look exactly like other forms of discrimination -- no form of discrimination looks exactly like any other -- but it is real.

Here are just a few examples.

According to a recent Gallup Poll, asking Americans who they'd be willing to vote for for President, atheists came in at the very bottom of the list: below blacks, below women, below Jews, below gays. Below every other marginalized group on the list. With less than half of Americans saying they'd vote for an atheist. Unless you live in a incredibly progressive district, being an out atheist will effectively kill any chances you have at a political career.

Atheists in the military have been illegally proselytized at, berated, called a disgrace, denied promotion, had meetings broken up, and been threatened with charges... all by superior officers, and all because of their atheism.

In her recent Senate campaign, Elizabeth Dole issued a series of campaign flyers and videos, centering on the fact that her opponent, Kay Hagan, had attended a fundraiser hosted by two atheist lobbyists... a campaign that openly referred to atheists as "vile," that treated the very existence of atheists as an abomination, and that used language about atheists that would have raised a tidal wave of shock and denunciation around the country if it had been aimed at any other religious group.

And especially in small rural towns, anti-atheist bigotry can turn truly ugly. Being an out atheist means risking ostracism and worse. Out atheist teenagers have been kicked out of public school programs, and then kicked out of public school. Out atheists have been the targets of vandalism and death threats. Even believers can be targeted with anti- atheist ostracism, threats, and vandalism, if they're perceived as being atheists because of their stance on separation of church and state (such as the anti- intelligent- design activists in Dover, Pennsylvania).

And I'm just talking about the U.S., where atheists are, at least in theory, guaranteed equal protection and freedom of non-religion under the 1st and 14th amendments. I'm not even talking about overt theocracies, where denying the existence of God will earn you a death sentence.

This stuff is real. And there's a lot more. These examples have barely scratched the surface. We are pissed off for a reason. Please don't trivialize it.

3: Find common ground.

Religious believers might think there's no way for them to be allies with atheists. Aren't atheists trying to do away with religion? How can you be allies with someone who thinks your most cherished beliefs are a myth, and wants to rid the world of them?

Okay. First, not all atheists are trying to do away with religion. Many atheists are fine with religion, as long as it's respectful of people who don't share it. They just don't believe it themselves, and just want to be left alone to give what they have to the world and to practice their lack of faith in peace. If all religions minded their own business, if religions didn't have the depressingly common habit of demonizing people who don't agree with them and shoving themselves down everybody else's throat... most of us wouldn't care about it very much.

Second: Even the atheists who would like to see religion disappear, and who are actively working to make that happen, still passionately support religious freedom. We don't want to make religion disappear by law, or coercion, or even social disapproval. We want to make religion disappear by persuasion. We want to convince people, in an open marketplace of ideas, that religion is mistaken. Even the most strongly and rudely anti- religion atheists I know are passionate in their defense of religious freedom, and of people's right to believe whatever crazy bullshit they want as long as they don't inflict it on other people.

And even though atheists obviously think religion is a mistaken idea about the world, and believers obviously don't... well, we don't have to agree about everything to work together. Atheists and progressive believers have a lot of common ground: a passionate support of religious freedom, a fervent belief in the separation of church and state, an intense respect for diversity. The fact that we don't agree about the existence or non-existence of God doesn't mean we can't work together on issues we share.

4: Speak out against anti-atheist bigotry and other forms of religious intolerance.

If you're white, it's important to speak up about racism. If you're male, it's important to speak up about sexism. If you're straight, it's important to speak up about homophobia. Etc.

And if you're a religious believer, it's important to speak up about anti-atheist bigotry and ignorance. Familiarize yourself with the common myths about atheism and the truth about those myths (see above)... and when you hear someone repeat the myths, speak out.

5: Be inclusive of atheists.

Remember that not everybody is a religious believer. And I don't just mean that not everybody belongs to a traditional religious organization. Many people have no religious or spiritual beliefs at all. So if you're talking to a group, don't ask people to pray. Don't talk about "our Creator." Don't talk about the spirit that moves within all of us. I don't have a creator, and I don't have a spirit, and I don't pray.

If you want to talk about your own religious beliefs, then please, by all means, go ahead and do so. Say that you're going to pray. Tell us about your creator. Talk about the spirit that moves within you. But don't assume that everyone you're talking to shares your beliefs, or indeed has any religious beliefs at all. Don't -- as a commenter in this blog observed at a No on Prop 8 rally -- talk about the wonderful work churches are doing for your movement, and the wonderful work being done by people who don't go to church but still believe in God, and neglect to mention the people who don't believe in God but still passionately support your cause. In the same way that (I hope) you try to remember that there are probably people in your audience who aren't white, or college-educated, or able-bodied, or whatever, please try to remember that there are probably people in your audience who aren't religious or spiritual.

(And don't do fake inclusion, either. Saying, "No matter what your religious beliefs or lack thereof are, let's all pray or meditate," is like saying, "No matter what your religious beliefs are, let's all give thanks to our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ." No matter how good your intentions are, it’s not inclusive. It's a back-handed slap.)

6: Don't divide and conquer, and don't try to take away our anger.

Don't divide us into "good atheists" and "bad atheists" based on how vocal or angry we are. Don't say things like, "Well, you seem reasonable -- but that Richard Dawkins and that Christopher Hitchens, they're just so mean and intolerant!"

I hope I don't have to tell you about the ugly history of dividing activists for social change into "the good ones" who are polite and soft-spoken and easy for the privileged power structure to get along with, and "the bad ones" who are angry, rabble- rousing trouble- makers. I hope I don't have to explain about the not- no- subtle message behind it: "We're fine with you as long as you don't speak up too loudly, and don't make us too uncomfortable, and don't ask for too much."

Like every other movement for social change I can think of, the atheist movement has its more diplomatic members and its more confrontational ones. And like every other movement for social change I can think of, the atheist movement needs both. It's more powerful with both. Both methods together work better than either one would work on its own.

Besides, we all know that Hitchens is an asshole. It's not news to us.

7: If you're going to accuse an atheist or an atheist group of being intolerant -- be careful, and make sure that's really what they're being.

Atheists often get accused of being intolerant for saying things like, "I don't agree with you," or, "You haven't made your case," or, "I think you're mistaken -- and here, exactly, is why." Atheists often get accused of bigotry when, in fact, they've been very careful to criticize specific ideas and actions rather than insult entire classes of people. Atheists often get accused of being close-minded for firmly stating their case and saying that, unless they see some good evidence or arguments to the contrary, they're going to stand by it. Atheists, as Richard Dawkins recently pointed out, often get accused of being insulting or hateful for discussing religion in the kind of language that is commonly accepted in political opinion pieces or restaurant reviews.

It's totally fucked up. Please don't do that.

Here's the thing. Atheists see religion as (among other things) a hypothesis about the world: an explanation for how the world works and why it is the way it is. We think that, as such, it should be willing to defend itself in the marketplace of ideas, on an even playing field. And we see the "criticism of religion is inherently intolerant" trope as one of the chief ways religion avoids having to do that. It totally gets up our nose.

As someone whose name I can't remember recently said: Religion has been discussed in hushed tones for so long, that when people talk about it in a normal tone of voice, it sounds like we're screaming. But most of us are not screaming. Most of us are talking in a normal tone of voice... for the first time in our lives.

8: Do not -- repeat, DO NOT -- talk about "fundamentalist atheists."

If you think an atheist or an atheist group is being intolerant, or bigoted, or close-minded, then by all means, say that they're being intolerant or bigoted or close-minded. But please, for the sweet love of all that is beautiful in this world, do not call them "fundamentalist atheists." The "fundamentalist" canard makes most atheists want to scream and tear our hair out. It's a problem for three reasons:

1: It's inaccurate. Atheists do not have a text or a set of basic principles to which they strictly and literally adhere... which is what the word "fundamentalist" means. (See "common myths about atheists" above.)

2: It perpetuates the myth that atheism is just another form of dogmatic religious faith... which it most emphatically is not. (Again, see "common myths about atheists" above.)

3: It divides the atheist movement into the "good" ones and the "bad" ones: the good ones who keep their mouths shut, and the bad ones who speak their opinions loudly and firmly. (See "don't divide and conquer" above.)

Think of the phrase "fundamentalist atheist" as an epithet. If you insist on using it, you should expect that no atheist will listen to anything else you say.

Finally -- and I think this may be the hardest for a lot of people, especially in the LGBT community:

9: Be aware of how religious belief gives you a place of mainstream and privilege.

This is a lot less true for believers in minority religions, like Jews and Muslims in the U.S. But even though the specifics of your belief marginalize you, the fact that you have belief at all does give you some privilege that you may not be aware of.

The assumption that everyone believes in some sort of God is so widespread as to be practically invisible. And the assumption that morality must stem from religious faith is incredibly pervasive. Many religious believers -- even the more hard-core ones, maybe especially the more hard-core ones -- are more trusting of other religious believers whose beliefs they don't share than they are of atheists. (Look again at "what it's like to be an atheist" above... and look again the Gallup Poll about how atheists are considered less qualified to be President than any other group that was polled about.)

And if you are a Christian? Forget about it. If you are a Christian in the United States, then -- when it comes to this particular area of the "privilege/ marginalization" palette -- your Christianity puts you squarely in the "privileged mainstream" category. Christians are in the clear majority in the United States, and they are in the clear mainstream of politics and culture. You're not being thrown to the lions anymore. You haven't been thrown to the lions for almost 2,000 years. You are in the group that is running the show.

And that's fine. That doesn't make you a bad person. When it comes to the "privilege/ marginalization" palette, most people have some of both. I am privileged as a white person, a college- educated person, a middle- to- upper- middle class person, a more or less able bodied person, an American. I am marginalized as a woman, a queer, a bisexual, a fat person, an atheist. And my privileges don't confer wickedness onto me, any more than my marginalizations confer virtue.

But my privileges do confer some responsibilities. They confer the responsibility to educate myself about the experiences of marginalized people, and the myths about them. To speak out against bigotry, even and especially when it isn't against me. To not assume that everyone is just like me. To remember that passionate anger is as important to a movement as gentle diplomacy. To learn what kind of language people prefer when talking about them, and what kind of language totally sets their teeth on edge. (Which is just good manners anyway.) To tread carefully when I'm criticizing marginalized people, and to make sure I know what the hell I'm talking about.

And to not act like a victim when my privilege is questioned, or indeed simply pointed out.

I do think progressive movements -- the LGBT community, as well as others -- should be making alliances with the atheist movement. If for no other reason, I think it's a smart choice pragmatically. Like I said yesterday, the atheist movement is just beginning to get off the ground, and it's already come very far in a very short time, both in terms of numbers and in terms of visibility. IMO, in the coming years and decades, it's going to be a force to be reckoned with. You want to get in on the ground floor here, people.

And it's also, you know, the right thing to do.

If you want to do that, I think this is a good place to start.

What do you think?

---

Addendum: I have, alas, had to turn off the comments on this post, as the comment thread has gone both completely off-topic and completely toxic. I've opened a new post -- How To Be An Ally with Atheists: The Actual Thread -- for anyone who wants to discuss the actual topic of this post. (And yes, I am all too aware of the irony of this particular post being the one where the comments went toxic.)

Important note: Please do not use the new comment thread to revive this original shut-down thread. Any attempt to do so will result in being banned from this blog. Thank you.

Being an Atheist in the Queer Community

I want to talk about being an atheist in the queer community.

This is going to be hard to talk about. But it's been on my mind a lot lately, and I think it's important to say.

I see a lot of parallels between the atheist community and the queer community. I think that the two movements have a great deal in common -- the importance of coming out of the closet, an ongoing family argument between the more diplomatic and the more confrontational activist philosophies, being a scapegoat of the religious right, etc.. In a lot of ways, I think the atheist movement today is very much where the queer movement was in the early '70s -- newly visible, newly vocal, pissed off as hell, still finding its voice, just beginning to gain real strength. I think the two communities could learn an enormous amount from each other, and I think that they're natural allies.

And yet, I'm having a realization that I'm finding extremely unsettling.

I've been an out queer, and an active participant in the queer community, for over 20 years now. I've felt for years like the LGBT community was my home base. I've only identified as an atheist for less than two years.

And yet I'm finding that I feel more at home -- more welcomed, more valued, more truly understood -- as a queer in the atheist community than I do as an atheist in the queer community.

Like, a lot more.

In the last year or two, after a stretch of being more focused on other issues and movements (sex radicalism, mostly, plus of course the atheism), I've been getting more involved again with the LGBT movement. I've been reading LGBT blogs; I've been participating in an email list of LGBT political people; I've been donating money to LGBT causes; I went to the recent LGBT bloggers' conference.

And here are some of the things I've experienced.

I've been exhorted to pray. I've been told about "our Creator." I've seen comments in LGBT blogs, listing bigoted and wildly inaccurate anti-atheist canards that could have come straight out of the religious right's playbook. I've heard inaccurate statistics bandied about regarding how many believers and non-believers there are in the U.S.... statistics that diminish atheists' numbers and our strength. (For the record: We're more than five percent, people.) I've heard the inaccurate and insulting canard about "fundamentalist" atheists... and, when I've pointed out that this term is both inaccurate and insulting, had the language firmly defended.

I've heard the LGBT movement described as divided into two distinct groups: the reasonable ones who want to work with religious groups, and the unreasonable ones who think that religion is a delusion. (As if it were impossible to think that religion is a mistaken hypothesis about the world, and at the same time still think we need to work with religious groups.) I've heard the atheist movement described as divided into two distinct groups: the good ones, the "live and let live" ones who don't criticize religion, and the bad ones, the intolerant "fundamentalist" ones who think they're right and say so. (Where have we heard that kind of language before?) I've heard LGBT leaders talk about how important it is to reach out to people of different religious faiths... with no mention whatsoever made of reaching out to people with no religious faith. Not even in lip service.

And I've been in the unsettling position of being the person that LGBT people come to to tell about their godlessness.

Have you ever been the out LGBT person that other LGBT people came to, privately or semi-privately, to tell you that they're L, G, B, or T? That's how I'm beginning to feel as an atheist in the queer community.

I'm not going to pretend to speak for these folks. I don't know exactly how they feel about their lack of religious belief, or why they're choosing to stay quiet about it for the moment. It could be any number of reasons: from not wanting to be alienated from the community, to not having the time or energy or inclination to do Godlessness 101 education, to not wanting to raise potentially divisive issues at a time when we've already had a lot of infighting, to just not thinking that it's that big a deal, to other reasons that probably haven't occurred to me. I don't pretend to speak for them, and I'm certainly not going to be anything but supportive of them. Like LGBT people, non-believers need to come out of the closet on their own timetable, and for their own reasons.

But I think we all know that, when you make yourself visible as an LGBT person in a non- specifically- LGBT group, and a whole bunch of people come up to you privately to tell you that they're LGBT... you know that there's a problem. You know that something's going on in that group that's making LGBT people feel like they can't be completely out.

It seems like that's happening for atheists and other non-believers in the LGBT community.

And the whole thing is making me really sad.

It's ticking me off, too. But mostly, it's making me sad. It's reminding me of my earlier days in the community, when we were fighting for the B to be included in LGBT, and people who I thought were my family were telling me that I didn't belong. It's making me feel like I have to fight for my place at the table. It's making me feel like I have to choose between being welcomed, and speaking my mind about things that are deeply important to me. It's making me feel like my home is not my home anymore.

Being a queer in the atheist community, on the other hand...

Being a queer in the atheist community is almost a complete non-issue.

I write a lot about the parallels between the LGBT movement and the atheist movement... and atheists, of all sexual orientations, are always interested. When I talk about sexual orientation and queer politics and history -- or just about my own personal experiences in my own queer relationship -- atheists want to hear what I have to say about it. And when I don't -- when I just want to talk about creationism or Pascal's Wager or the problem of evil or the meaning of life -- then they want to hear what I have to say about that, too. Not as an LGBT representative, either; not as What The LGBT Community Has to Say About Pascal's Wager. Just as Greta.

And the atheist community has been fierce and outspoken in defense of LGBT rights. To give just one example: The atheist blogosphere needed no prodding to blog about Prop 8. They were all over the issue like a cheap suit. Almost every atheist blog I read had something to say about it; many of them blogged about it multiple times. And they were all over the issue from very early on. Hell, I know straight atheist bloggers who were blogging about Prop 8 before I was.

This isn't just true for Prop 8 or same-sex marriage, either. The atheist blogosphere talks about homophobia a fair amount. They see it, among other things, as one of the main examples of how traditional organized religion is stubbornly adhering to unsupported dogma at the expense of real human lives. And that makes it a big issue for them. Apart from just, you know, being appalled by it because it hurts their friends and loved ones. Apart from it just being the right thing to do.

I'm not saying that I've never encountered homophobia or homo-stupidity in the atheist community. I have. But I've found it to be very rare, very much the exception. And maybe more to the point: When it does show up, it gets smacked down like a bug, by a dozen different hands or more. I don't always have to be the one to do the smacking. I don't even usually have to be the one to do the smacking. When a homophobic or homo-stupid commenter shows up, the atheist blogosphere -- straight and queer -- promptly tears them about sixteen new assholes. I have never before been in a community where I felt so strongly that straight people had my back.

On the whole, the atheist community has been just about the most LGBT- positive community I've been in that wasn't, specifically, an LGBT community itself. I've had to do almost no Queer 101 education in it. I've been able to just relax and be myself.

Now. I do understand that this comparison isn't entirely fair. For one thing, the modern queer movement has been active and loud, visible and vocal, for a good 40 years now. The rest of the world has had time to, as the chant goes, get used to it.

The atheist community? Not so much. The atheist movement has been around for a while; but it's only been active and loud, visible and vocal, making itself an un-ignorable presence in the world at large, for maybe the last five years or so. Straight people -- including atheists -- have had a long time to get educated about LGBT issues. Religious believers -- including LGBT folks -- haven't had as long to get familiar with atheism. So it's not terribly surprising that there should be troubling attitudes about atheists and atheism in the LGBT community. Disappointing, but not surprising.

And it's not like this situation is universally terrible. It's not. There are queer believers who are saying and doing lovely and supportive things for their non-believing compatriots. There are other queer non-believers who are talking openly about their godlessness -- I'm hardly the only one. And it's not like anyone's throwing rocks at me or anything. It's not terrible.

It's just bad enough to make me feel like I'm not quite at home anymore.

I am both an atheist and a queer. I feel like I'm one of the bridges between the two communities, and that makes me happy: I think the two movements are natural allies, and I think there should be bridges between them. (If only for reasons of pure pragmatism, I damn well think the LGBT community should be working like crazy on that alliance. IMO, the atheist movement is going to be a force to be reckoned with in the coming years and decades: it's come very far in a very short time, and it's growing by leaps and bounds every year.)

But lately, I'm feeling like this bridge is a lot more strongly supported on one side than it is on the other. I'm feeling like the people on one side of the bridge are heartily cheering me on and welcoming me with open arms, and the people on the other side of the bridge are a whole lot more conflicted about me, with a fair number of them heartily wishing that I'd just shut up.

And I'm finding -- sadly, but not entirely surprisingly -- that I'm feeling more strongly identified with my new friends who are cheering me on.

I'm feeling more like an atheist than I am like a queer.

And if this trend in the LGBT community keeps moving in this same direction, then that's just going to get stronger.

So how do I want this to change?

That's tomorrow's post.

"Milk" And The Joy Of Sex: The Blowfish Blog

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's a review of "Milk," the excellent and much- talked- about new biopic about Harvey Milk... with a focus on how the movie depicts sex.

I'm sure you're all surprised. And deeply shocked.

It's titled "Milk" And The Joy Of Sex, and here's the teaser:

I realize this may come across like the welder's review of "Flashdance." But today, this sex writer wants to talk about the depiction of sex in "Milk."

Because it was so strikingly different from the way sex gets depicted in almost every major Hollywood movie.

Not just different. Better. Way, way better.

You've no doubt heard about "Milk," the new biopic about the history- making San Francisco gay activist and city supervisor Harvey Milk, directed by Gus Van Sant and starring Sean Penn. If you haven't already seen it, you've probably heard that it's brilliant, that it's inspiring and moving and tear- jerking and funny, that Penn's performance is nothing short of astounding. All of which is true.

But today, just for a change, I want to talk about sex.

See, unlike most Hollywood movies about gay people, the sex in "Milk" is not downplayed. It gets a starring role. And unlike most Hollywood movies, period, sex is treated, not as a joke, not as a source of easy fearmongering and/or cheap titillation, not even as a source of dramatic angst and despair a la "Brokeback Mountain," but as a source of joy and liberation, a central part of a human life, worthy of value and respect.

(Warning: Spoiler alert. Spoilers are all over this review like a cheap suit.)

To find out more about how "Milk" depicts sex -- and what that depiction reveals about the movie's attitude towards it -- read the rest of the review. Enjoy!

My Trip to the LGBT Bloggers' Conference

My Trip to the Bloggers' Conference
by Greta
Mrs. Marx's Homeroom
Grade 4

Last weekend I went to a bloggers' conference in Washington D.C. It was a lot of fun. There were a lot of kids there from other schools. We talked about government and computers and how we can make the world better for every body. Washington D.C. is the capital of our country. There is a big Christmas tree there, and a museum with lots of butterfiles butterflies. I hope we can go back soon.

I've never done one of these conference reports before. I'm not quite sure how you do it. I was at the National LGBT Blogger and Citizen Journalist Initiative in D.C. last weekend, and some people have said that they want to hear about it; but I'm not sure how to do that in a way that's not mind-bogglingly tedious. So instead of talking about the high points of what I did, I think I'll talk about the high points of what I learned.

*

In political discussions, don't use the generic word "we." If you're talking about a group, be specific.

It's important to take on difficult, thorny issues of race, class, gender identity, nationality, etc. -- even if you're not totally comfortable with it. In other words: White people have to talk about race, middle- and upper- class people have to talk about class, non-trans people have to talk about trans issues, etc.

When you're taking on difficult, thorny issues of race, class, gender identity, nationality, etc., and you fear that you're going to put your foot in it because it's not your particular issue and you don't know enough about it... acknowledge that from the outset. Frame your piece in the form of questions you're asking rather than opinions you're asserting, and ask for feedback. People will cut you more slack for mistakes you may make if you make it clear that you're aware of your limitations.

When other people are taking on difficult, thorny issues of race, class, gender identity, nationality, etc., and they make mistakes, don't be an asshole about it. If you think they're perpetuating misinformation or bigotry, call them on it -- but the flame-war dogpile of a jillion people screaming "You're an asshole" does not foster mutual understanding. Cut each other some slack for good intentions already.

The LGBT community needs to stop defining ourselves as victims, and start defining ourselves as victors. Framing ourselves as victims feeds into our opponents' narrative (we're whiny, we're weak, we want special rights, etc.) Instead of demanding equal rights, we should demand equal responsibilities: demand to be equal participants and contributors in making our country/ world stronger and better. We need to frame our demands not in terms of what we want, but in terms of what we have to offer.

On that topic: The LGBT community should frame our history as part of the narrative of American history: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. And when we do that, we should frame it in a positive way -- not as part of the American history of bigotry and brutality and oppression, but as part of our historical arc towards equality and justice.

There are different forms of political communication: education, persuasion, and motivation. With persuasion, you have to meet people where they are.

The LGBT community should encourage our straight allies to stand up for us. (See "taking on difficult, thorny issues" above.)

Conservatives tend to have a hive mentality, and are by nature better at all staying on one message than progressives. But progressives don't need to see this as a weakness on our part. We have a strength that conservatives tend not to: the ability to see a wide variety of viewpoints on a topic. When co-ordinating our efforts, we don't have to all take the same talking points -- but we can co-ordinate our diverse efforts (such as co-ordinating the timing of posts on big stories to maximize attention).

If you're going to do TV appearances, practice in front of a camera -- find your sweet spot, the angle from which you photograph best, and stick with it. Stay present on camera -- "adjourn the court" of self judgment, you can't be a participant and an observer at the same time. On a microphone, talk softer than you normally would in public speaking, as if you were talking into someone's ear -- it will pick up the nuance of your voice better. You live with video forever, so be careful of what you say on camera. Don't let your appearance distract from your message. Have good posture. And on camera, no matter how mad you are, your default should always be a smile. (Examples: Bill Clinton and Rachel Maddow.)

To do effective public relations and get your blog noticed by the mainstream media: Remember that journalists are either busy or lazy, and make their job easier for them. Develop relationships with journalists, know what they're looking for and be willing and able to feed it to them. Offer something different -- news, new information, or just a strong point of view. Most journalists are looking for topical pieces -- if your work isn't necessarily topical, hook it to a topic, or find a publication that's doing a theme issue.

To make more money blogging, I pretty much need to keep doing what I'm doing. I just need to do it more, consider some additional income streams, and work harder on building my traffic.

And finally: I really need to get a flip camera.

*

Oh. And I learned this:

The queer community sure talks about religion a lot.

But that's a topic for another post.

The Obligatory Sarah Palin Column, or, Why I Don't Care About A Pregnant 17 Year Old

This piece was originally published a couple of months ago on the Blowfish Blog. I wouldn't have thought that my Sarah Palin piece would have much shelf life after the election. But the woman just keeps coming back like a bad penny. Or like the Terminator. So I thought it would be appropriate to remind everybody of why -- exactly -- she would be such a disaster in any sort of national public office.

I just don't care that much.

About the pregnant seventeen year old, I mean.

I suppose this is an abdication of my responsibility as a lefty sex writer. But I just don't care that much that the 2008 Republican nominee for vice-president has a 17-year-old daughter who's unmarried and pregnant.

I don't even care all that much about the hypocritical double standard: how Sarah Palin and the Republicans want us to respect Bristol Palin's personal and sexual privacy but don't want to respect anyone else's. That sort of double standard isn't the most charming trait in the world, especially in an elected official... but it's also very human. We all cut slack, and make excuses, and act protectively, for the people we're close to. It's probably not morally perfect, but I'm not sure I'd want to live in a world where it wasn't true.

When it comes to Sarah Palin, here's what I do care about.

I care that Sarah Palin thinks that the war in Iraq is part of God's plan.

I care that Sarah Palin thinks religious creationism should be taught as science in public schools.

I care that Sarah Palin thinks dinosaurs and people may have lived at the same time.

I care that Sarah Palin doesn't know enough about foreign policy to know what the Bush Doctrine is... and that she seems to think she has foreign policy experience because "you can actually see Russia from land here in Alaska." (Or, as Tina Fey put it, "I can see Russia from my house!")

I care that Sarah Palin thinks that Jesus Christ will -- not that he may, but that he will -- come back to Earth in her lifetime.

I could go on. And on. And on. I care that she approvingly quoted a racist, anti-Semitic nutbag who called for Robert Kennedy's assassination. I care that she lies, repeatedly, about whether she sought and accepted pork barrel money from Congress for her town and her state. I care that her only government experience is as a city councilmember of a town of less than 10,000, as mayor of said town, and as governor of Alaska for less than two years. I care that, as Matt Damon put it (yes, you heard me, Matt Damon -- it's an amazing video and you've got to watch it), the prospect of a Palin presidency is "like a really bad Disney movie." I care... oh, you get the picture.

And I care that the McCain campaign and the Republican party were so sloppy in vetting her that they keep getting ambushed with new outrages and inanities about her, every day of the campaign. I care that their thought process in picking her was apparently not, "Who might be qualified to be President if the 72- year-old McCain dies?" but, "How can we get evangelicals and disaffected female Hillary supporters to vote for McCain?" I care that Palin was nominated, in large part, because the GOP (a) wanted to get women voters, and (b) thinks women voters are idiots. I care that they view their Vice- Presidential nominee as, essentially, Dan Quayle in a dress.

Oh, and since this is a sex column:

I care that Sarah Palin is so rabidly opposed to abortion that she even opposes it in cases of rape or incest.

I care that Sarah Palin opposes birth control being made available to teenagers.

I care that Sarah Palin supports the grossly failed, grotesquely inaccurate "abstinence only" sex education policy -- which flat-out lies to children and teenagers about sex, and which completely fails to reduce teenage sex, STIs, and unwanted pregnancy.

I care that Sarah Palin reportedly tried to get a pro-gay book -- not even an erotic gay book or a gay sex information book, but a book by a pastor arguing that homosexuality and Christianity are not mutually exclusive -- banned from her town's public library.

I care that, as mayor of Wasilla, Sarah Palin was responsible for a policy in which rape victims had to pay for their own rape kits. (No, I'm not kidding. A policy that not only further victimizes the victims, but ensures that rapists of poor women will get away with it. And a policy, btw, that McCain also supports, with multiple votes in Congress.)

In other words, I care that, on issues of sex, sexual freedom, and sexual information, Sarah Palin is not only a right winger -- she is on the far, far right end of that right wing.

You know, there's something people often forget about the Presidential elections and the Vice President. And that is this: The Vice President's most important job isn't to "balance the ticket." Or to deliver their home state. Or to do a lot of stump speeches in the campaign. Or, when elected, to go to a lot of state dinners that the President doesn't have time for.

Their most important job is to be President if the President dies.

(Especially if the President has a 1 in 3 chance, statistically speaking, of dying in office.)

And this is a job that Sarah Palin is grotesquely unqualified to do.

But she's not unqualified because she has a pregnant teenage daughter.

That can happen to anyone. Liberal or conservative, Democrat or Republican, person of integrity or total hypocrite, sane member of the reality- based community or deluded religious extremist. I was about Bristol Palin's age when I started having sex, and I wasn't always careful about birth control, and it could very easily have happened to me, with my leftie, beatnik, agnostic parents. And I don't think it would have proven very much about them at all. It would have proven that (a) teenagers are often horny, and (b) teenagers are often careless and stupid.

You can argue, as Dan Savage and others have, that Sarah Palin has no right to expect privacy for her own family when she has such callous disregard for the privacy of anybody else. You can argue that, given her policies on birth control for teenagers and abstinence only sex education and such, her daughter's pregnancy is fair game. You can even argue that her mulish refusal to reconsider her positions on things like teen birth control and abstinence-only sex ed in the face of her daughter's pregnancy (in contrast to, say, the way Barry Goldwater reconsidered his position on gay rights when his granddaughter came out) shows a stubborn denial in the face of reality that makes her unfit for high office.

You can argue that. You could probably make a good case for it. But I'm not going to. There are lots of reasons why Sarah Palin is grossly unqualified to be Vice-President (as well as lots of reasons why John McCain is grossly unqualified to be President). But in my opinion, her daughter's pregnancy is not one of them.

I'm not saying we shouldn't talk about it, ever. I wouldn't say that, what with the hypocrisy and the abstinence-only sex education and all. Heck, here I am, talking about it right this minute. I'm saying that, in the scheme of things, it's just not that big a deal. I'm saying that we have much, much better reasons not to vote for this person. I'm saying that we have bigger, and better, fish to fry.

Debating the Invisible, Arguing the Emotional: Religion and Politics, Part 2

In yesterday's post, I discussed the question of religion in the political arena... specifically when it comes to Prop 8, and banning same-sex marriage. I discussed the problem of how religion -- a belief system based on authority, tradition, and personal feeling, a belief system that's essentially uninterested in reason or evidence and is often uniquely resistant to it -- makes for a frustrating force in politics. Today, I try to answer the question, "So what do we do about it?"

As a pragmatic, political, "what do we do about this/ how do we address this/ how do we organize around it" issue, I'm really not sure where I'm going with this.

As a hard-line atheist, my reflexive response is to say, "What we need to do is to keep working on deconverting believers into non-belief. Religion is a mistaken idea, it's an idea that does more harm than good, and when religion reveals itself to be this strongly and stubbornly against the cause of social justice, we obviously need to keep working to uproot it from the human mindset."

But even I have to accept that, as a realistic middle-term strategy for winning same-sex marriage in the next couple/few years, that's not very practical.

So what do we do about it?

When traditional organized religion -- with its unique power to inspire and mobilize, and its unique lack of interest in facts and arguments -- gets involved in the political arena, how do you engage with it?

I know we're not going to reach the hard-core true believers. Pretty much nothing reaches them. But not all believers are hard-core true believers. Not even all people who go to church once a week are hard-core true believers. And yet religion still exerts a powerful effect on their beliefs and action... including their actions in the political arena.

How do we deal with that?

I do think that one step is to light a fire under the churches and other religious organizations who are already (in theory) on our side. We need to get them to speak up much more loudly, and in much larger numbers, about how it's possible to be a fervent religious believer and still support marriage equality, and how religion is not an acceptable excuse for bigotry. Religious believers need to hear that homophobic bigotry isn't a requirement for religious faith... and they probably need to hear it from other believers.

We also need to do a better job getting out the message that opposing same-sex marriage is not a First Amendment/ freedom of religion issue. One of the most powerful and most effective lies that the Yes on 8 campaign told was that if same-sex marriage remained legal, churches who refused to perform them would lose their tax-exempt status. We need to remind people that this is bullshit. Religious organizations are perfectly free to perform or reject any marriage they like. Synagogues don't have to perform interfaith marriage ceremonies (and many of them don't); the Catholic church doesn't have to perform weddings for divorced people. And if same-sex marriage is legalized, no religious institution will be forced, by tax law or any other law, to perform same-sex weddings if they don't want to.

And we need to point out that, in fact, banning same-sex marriage restricts religious freedom... since religious organizations who want to perform same-sex marriage ceremonies can't. Even fervent, hard-core religious believers may feel guilt about infringing on the rights of other churches... even if they don't feel even a twinge of guilt about infringing on the rights of, you know, actual individual people.

But honestly, I'm not sure how effective any of this is going to be. Because again, it's all an attempt to apply reason and evidence to a side of humanity that doesn't find either of those things compelling. I mean, it's not as if traditional religious believers came to their current conclusions about homosexuality and same-sex marriage through a careful examination of the facts and arguments. I'm highly doubtful that a careful presentation of facts and arguments is going to sway them in the other direction.

So how do we deal with this?

My own long term goal -- like, very long term, like maybe a hundred or two years after I die -- is to get rid of religion's power in the political arena by getting rid of religion. My long term goal is to continue to use my powers of persuasion, in tandem with other non-believers, to gradually slide religion out of the human mindset.

But in the meantime, while religion is still here, and is still a powerful political force in this country... what the hell do we do with it?

I honestly have no idea.

I do think part of the solution is to make not just rational arguments, but emotional ones. Keith Olberman's extremely moving special comment about Prop 8 was a good example of that. We need to talk about/ show images of gay and lesbian couples losing their children, losing their health insurance, losing their shared property when one of them dies, because they can't be married. We need to talk about/ show images of what Ingrid calls the Brokeback Mountain phenomenon: the way that keeping homosexuality in the closet ruins lives... not just the lives of LGBT people, but the lives of their spouses and families and everyone around them.

We need to talk about/ show images of a lesbian couple -- domestic partners even, right here in California -- who, when one of them was pregnant and bleeding and having serious trouble with the pregnancy, were not recognized by the hospital as a couple and a family and the mutual parents of the child they were trying to have. (A couple who then drove hours to go to another hospital, with the one woman still bleeding, so they could be together and make decisions together and be treated with respect in a shared medical emergency.)

In other words: We need to make people see the human face of this issue. If we can't make them see reason and evidence, maybe we can make them feel humanity and compassion.

But that can't be the only answer. For one thing, traditional religious groups can pull on heartstrings, too. They are surpassing masters at it. The yearning to please the invisible Father in the sky; the fear of strangers who don't keep our sacred things sacred; the desire to protect our children from blasphemous defilers who would lead them into sin and harm; the terror of permanent burning torture in hell... I could go on and on.

And besides, I just hate it when politics turns into a battle of the heartstrings. Why should public policy be won by the most effective emotional manipulators? Do we want a government of Steven Spielbergs?

It's kind of driving me nuts. I realize that I've raised the alarm here without issuing a specific call to action, and I hate it when people do that. But I'm really stumped on this one. I think this is a big problem, one that reaches past the same-sex marriage question, one that has been mucking up politics for a long time. And it's going to be much harder to move forward on same-sex marriage -- or any gay rights issue, or any issue at all that traditional religious organizations care passionately about -- if we don't come up with a way to address it.

So I'm throwing this out to my readers.

Thoughts?

When traditional religious organizations get their teeth into a political issue, and it's an issue where you think they're both morally and factually wrong... how do you think we should deal with it?

Why We Care What Other People Believe: Religion, Race, and Prop 8

(Disclaimer: Yes, I know I said I wasn't going to blog about politics for a while. Y'all should have known that wasn't going to happen. Hell, I should have known that wasn't going to happen. Mistakes were made. Let's just move on, shall we? Besides, that was four days ago. Why do you keep bringing up old stuff?)

So as promised: the atheist rant about religion's role in the passage of Proposition 8 and the banning of same-sex marriage in California.

But first -- and not tangentially, in fact very much related to it -- a few words about Prop 8 and race.

A lot of people are talking about the African American community supporting Prop 8. A lot of people are talking about how the black churches were overwhelmingly against marriage equality. A lot of people are really angry about it. Not so temperately, and not so nicely.

I have a few thoughts about that. Mostly, Pam Spaulding of Pam's House Blend said what I would have said -- and in fact, shaped my thinking about this -- so mostly I'm going to just link to what Pam said.

The point in Pam's piece that jumped out at me most strongly: Yes, African Americans supported Prop 8, by a depressing margin. But African American voters made up only about 10% of the total vote in the California election. It's disappointing, of course -- it's always disappointing when oppressed people don't get it about other people's oppression. But (a) the No on 8 campaign didn't do nearly enough to reach out to the African American community, and (b) the African American community did not single- handedly lose this election for us.

After all, lots of other demographic groups voted heavily in favor of Prop 8. People over 65, for one. And I don't see people scapegoating them, or writing vicious diatribes against them, or screaming bigoted epithets at them in the street.

If we're not going to do that with old people -- many of whom are queer, and many of whom are allies -- we need to not do that with African Americans. Again, many of whom are queer, and many of whom are allies.

All of which is important. And now, I want to come to my main point.

A lot of people are talking about how the black churches were overwhelmingly against marriage equality, and what we should do about that.

My question:

Why is the focus on the "black" side of that sentence?

Why is it not on the "churches" side of that sentence?

*

Here are some numbers for you. CNN exit polls showed that those who attended church weekly voted against marriage equality, 84%-16%.

Those who attended church only occasionally voted for marriage equality, 54%-46%.

And those who do not attend church at all voted for marriage equality, 83%-17%.

Now. Again. A lot of demographic groups were against us. That, by itself, doesn't automatically make religion an undeniably huge focal point of this election.

Here's what makes religion an undeniably huge focal point of this election:

The Yes on 8 campaign was overwhelmingly designed by, organized by, and funded by, the Mormon Church, the Catholic Church, and the far-right evangelical churches.

Overwhelmingly.

The campaign to ban same-sex marriage -- not just in California, but around the country -- is not just organized and funded by religious organizations. It is inspired by it. Religion is the driving passion behind this movement. It is the engine propelling the tank; it is the fire fueling the engine.

It seems clear to me that race is really not the issue here -- except very tangentially, in that the African American community tends to be a church-going community.

The issue is religion.

It was not African Americans who were against us. It was traditional religious organizations who were against us. Of all races.

There's something Ingrid said about this, and I'm simultaneously intensely proud of her for thinking of it and kicking myself for not thinking of it myself.

The next time anyone asks, "Why do you atheists care so much about what other people believe?"

This, people, is why we care.

If all people did with their religious beliefs was sit around in the privacy of their homes believing them? I wouldn't care what they believed. They could sit in their living rooms believing what they believe, and I could sit in my living room believing what I believe, and it would trouble me almost not at all. Certainly not enough to devote my writing career to opposing it.

But people act on their beliefs. And when inspired by religious fervor and a belief that a perfectly loving and good God wants them to act the way they're acting and will reward them for it with perfect bliss forever after they die, people act with a single-minded energy and focus... and a singular lack of interest in the facts.

See, here's the thing about religion that makes it such a frustrating player in the political arena. Religion is a belief system based entirely, and explicitly, on authority, tradition, and personal feeling and intuition. And therefore, it is a belief system that can provide an impressively- armored rationalization for just about any opinion and action you care to name. It is a belief system with little or no connection to evidence and reason, and that much of the time is singularly resistant to it.

And so, when religion pops up its head in the political arena, it makes discussion and debate on the actual issues difficult verging on impossible.

Example. When religious believers hear their priests and preachers and so on tell them -- oh, say, just for instance -- that legalizing same-sex marriage will mean that homosexuality will be taught in grade school, and that anti- same- sex marriage churches will lose their tax-exempt status? And then when they hear teachers' associations and legal experts saying that that's ridiculous and it will absolutely do no such thing? Who are they going to believe?

The Yes on 8 campaign lied like dogs in this election. And their lies were extremely difficult to combat. Partly that was because we didn't have the funding to get our "They're lying like dogs" message out into the world as much as we needed to. But it was also because the fervent religious believers behind the Yes on 8 campaign trusted their religious leaders -- the leaders they trust, the leaders they see as the voice of God, the leaders who provide a cover of divine virtue and authority for the discomfort and bigotry they already feel -- before they trusted those dumb old teachers' associations and legal experts and people with actual evidence supporting their side.

How do you combat that? How do you make arguments to people who think tradition and authority and personal feeling are more valid than reason or critical thinking? How do you provide counter- evidence to people who aren't all that interested in evidence?

Now. You can argue that this isn't true for all religious believers. You can argue that not all religious believers supported Prop 8, and that in fact many religious organizations opposed it. And you'd be right.

But if you're arguing that, then I have a question for you. It's an actual, "I don't know the answer" question, btw, not a ranty rhetorical question, and if someone knows the answer, I'd like to hear it.

Where were the progressive, pro-gay religious organizations in this fight?

I don't mean the MCC and other religious groups specifically organized by and for the LGBT community. I'm sure they were out in full force. I mean non- specifically- gay- focused religious organizations that are still progressive and gay-friendly. The United Church of Christ. The Episcopalians. The Quakers. Reform synagogues. Etc. I know there was some support... but were they out for us in anything like the numbers, and with anything like the fervor and passion, and with anything like the devotion of time and resources, that the Mormon and Catholic and Evangelical churches had in opposing us?

I sure as hell didn't see it.

Way too much of the time, when it comes to religion, it seems that T.S. Eliot William Butler Yeats hit the nail on the head: "The best lack all conviction, while the worst/ Are full of passionate intensity." Sure, the progressive churches are more or less on our side. But they don't seem to have anywhere near the energy and focus; the passionate intensity that raises money and mobilizes volunteers and gets the vote out.

I know, I know. There were a lot of issues in this election, and a lot of things were against us, and our organization almost certainly made some serious mistakes. But religion clearly played a massive role in the Yes on 8 campaign, and I think we're burying our heads in the sand if we act as if that isn't true.

So what do we do about it?

(To be continued tomorrow.)

Proud -- and Bitterly Disappointed

Wow. Okay. This is an unfamiliar feeling.

Today I am, for the first time in many years, proud to be an American.

Some of it is about race. I'll freely acknowledge that. I am an unrepentant liberal, and I'm old-school enough to feel ashamed and guilty about my country's ugly history on race... and proud when my country gets over a little bit more of its racism. And yesterday, my country got over a lot of its racism. Yesterday, my country elected an African- American man to be President of the United States. And I am so proud about that I could burst.

But it's more than that.

I am proud that my country, for once, did not get deceived by the politics of hate: the politics of fear-mongering, red-baiting, name-calling, character assassination, and trivial- but- juicy issue- of- the- day distraction. I am proud that my country was able to say, "We don't care that Obama sat on a charity board with a former member of the Weather Underground. We don't care that his minister said some harsh things about America. We don't care that his middle name is Hussein. We don't believe that he's a socialist, a terrorist, a Muslim, a diva... and even if we do believe that, we don't care. We think he's the most able leader to get us through a difficult time -- and that is all that we care about."

This was an ugly, hateful, deceitful campaign on the part of the GOP, a campaign that showed an insultingly dismissive attitude towards the principles of democracy, and a deep contempt for the voters it was trying to court. And my country did not succumb to it. Yesterday, my country acted, not like an easily- manipulated robot army led by focus groups and media advisors, but like citizens.

I am also, I will confess, experiencing more than a skosh of hometown pride. I'm from Chicago... and I grew up in the neighborhood where Obama lives. My family still lives there, in fact. The apartment where I grew up, the apartments where my father and my brother live, are just a short walk from the Obama home. So I am having a totally irrational, but surprisingly powerful, surge of pride that a Hyde Parker -- a Hyde Parker! -- is going to be our next President of the United States. (Ask me about Hyde Park sometime, and I'll explain to you why that's funny.)

And most of all: I am insanely, gut-bustingly proud about yesterday's massive voter turnout.

Even if the vote hadn't gone the way it did, I'd still be proud about the massive voter turnout.

For decades, I have been deeply ashamed about the low voter turnout in American elections. America is the cradle of modern democracy, for fuck's sake. Americans love to talk about democracy and freedom and patriotism and the Founding Fathers. And yet, for decades, way too many Americans have shown themselves perfectly willing to piss on this crucial, hard-won right. For decades, way too many Americans have succumbed to the self- fulfilling prophecies that "my vote won't matter" and "all politicians are the same." And for decades, I've wanted to grab every one of these Americans by the shoulders, give them a good, hard shake, and say, "Of course your vote won't matter if you don't use it! Of course all politicians will be the same if the only people who vote are the people who are invested in the status quo! Haven't you read 'Stone Soup'? What part of 'there won't be good government unless I bring my share of it' don't you understand?"

Democracy and voting are among the few things that I get seriously earnest and misty-eyed over. They're among the few things that I consider, in whatever secular meaning you want to apply to the word, sacred. And it's made me intensely angry, year after year, that so many Americans treat this right -- the right that our country was founded on, the right that so many people fought and died for, the right that millions of people around the world still don't have -- with such contempt.

But not this year. This year, people got it. This year, Americans figured out that our government is, you know, ours.

And I'm deeply, deeply proud about that. I'm feeling all gooey, and misty-eyed, and -- dare I say it? -- hopeful.

Look. I know that Obama isn't perfect. There are a fair number of issues that I disagree with him on. I'm concerned about how eager he is to be liked by everyone. I know we're going to have to hold his feet to the fire, probably more than once. And I fear that a lot of young voters are going to lose some of their excitement and passion about politics when they realize that their hero is not, in fact, the second coming of Christ.

But so what. Obama isn't perfect... but he is way, way better than just the lesser of two evils. He is smart, thoughtful, articulate, well- informed, and both passionate and level-headed. In this campaign, he has shown a remarkable ability to keep his eye on the ball; to not get distracted by the stupid, trivial, non-issue controversies of the minute; to stay on message, on target, on the high road.

And he more or less agrees with me on most of the issues I care about most deeply.

I think I'm going to be reasonably happy to have him as our President.

And I'm intensely proud that my country got over itself enough to make that happen.

*

Right. Yeah. Okay.

Except.

As proud as I am of my country today, I am deeply ashamed of, and hurt by, and furious at, and bitterly disappointed by, my state.

My country did not buy the politics of hate and lies, divisiveness and bigotry. But my state bought it hook, line, and sinker. Over half of my fellow Californians proved themselves to be either bigots, or gullible, easily deceived sheep. Or -- and this is the one I'm going with for a lot of them -- far too willing to be gullible and deceived. Far too willing to let themselves be persuaded by any excuse, no matter how shabby and transparently false, for voting their bigotry instead of their better nature.

And so my state has told me that I am now -- officially, legally -- a second-class citizen.

My state wrote discrimination into its Constitution.

(The official line of the No on 8 organizers is that they're not conceding until all the votes -- absentee ballots, provisional ballots, everything -- are counted. But right now, it's not looking hopeful.)

I want so badly to be happy about the Obama victory. I am happy about the Obama victory. I wrote the first part of this piece earlier in the day yesterday, and I meant every word of it. I still mean every word of it.

But right now, I can't stop crying.

There's an atheist rant in here somewhere. Something about organized religion's easy eagerness to force its Bronze-age bigotry onto the rest of the world. Something about religious zealots who care more about their invisible friend in the sky than about the human beings standing next to them. The Yes on 8 campaign was overwhelmingly funded and organized by the Mormon and Catholic Churches. California exit polls showed that those who attended church regularly voted against marriage equality 83-17%; those who attended church only occasionally voted for marriage equality 60-40%; and those who do not attend church at all voted for marriage equality 86-14%. And that pisses me off no end. I can feel an atheist rant coming on that will make Atheists and Anger look diplomatic.

But right now, I don't have the stomach for it. Maybe PZ or somebody else will take it on. Maybe I'll take it on myself later. Right now, I'm just tired and sick and sad.

I know that the arc of history is bending in our direction. Eight years ago, a similar proposition -- the one that got overturned by the California Supreme Court earlier this year -- won by 61% of the vote. This one won with only 52%. In another eight years, we can probably win. (And this initiative may wind up in front of the California Supreme Court, which will hopefully smack it across the head and snap, "What part of 'Unconstitutional' don't you understand?")

But right now, we're not there. Right now, I don't even know if Ingrid and I are still legally married. Right now, I -- and the dearest love of my life, and a large number of our friends and colleagues and family members -- have had a civil and constitutional right taken away from us by popular demand. This is a huge, grotesque, mutant fly in the ointment of yesterday's inspiring and historic election, and I can't pretend that it's anything else.

*

Finally, though, I want to say this:

I am incredibly proud of all my blog readers who volunteered for, and donated to, and blogged about, and just plain voted in, this election. Especially the ones who volunteered for/ donated to/ blogged about/ just plain voted for No on 8. This one was really personal, for obvious reasons, and Ingrid and I are both deeply touched by all the people who said such sweet and supportive righteously angry things about the issue. And I was especially touched by all the people who said they'd been inspired to donate by my blog. No, we didn't win... but we made it really, really close. Thank you for that.

And so now I make this promise to you:

No more political blogging for a while.

I'm exhausted. And I'm sure you all must be exhausted as well. I think I'm going to take a day or two off from the blogging. And then, unless something huge happens in the political arena, I'm going to take a break from the politics for a bit. After my day or two off, I'm going to come back to the blog with my usual mix of atheist rants, sexual philosophies, TV reviews, commentaries about science, observations about life, recipes, and, if we can get our camera to work again, cute pictures of our cats.

I'm deeply grateful to all of you for putting up with the unexpected turn this blog has taken for the past month. We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

Obama & Biden Oppose Prop 8... and Notes on Political Morality

In yet another shining example of moral leadership, the Yes on 8 campaign has just sent out a deceptive flyer making it seem as both Barack Obama and Joe Biden support Yes on 8, the initiative on the California ballot to amend the state constitution to ban same-sex marriage.

To be clear: Obama and Biden have both been kind of weaselly on the subject of same-sex marriage. But both have clearly stated that they oppose Prop 8. And they've just released a statement reiterating that opposition in no uncertain terms. Just so we're all on the same page.

And now, I want to talk for a moment about the Yes on 8 campaign... and about morality.

The Yes on 8 campaign is pushing -- hard -- the idea that we need to ban same-sex marriage in order to protect morality.

And to accomplish this goal, they have resorted, not only to gross deception (as in the case of the "Obama agrees with us!" flyer), but to outright lies, blackmail, and an attempt to shut down the website of their opposition.

And we're supposed to see them as moral paragons. We're supposed to see them as the protectors of our values. We're supposed to want this moral world that they're trying to create.

Fuck that. I don't want their morality. Even if I didn't already disagree vehemently with their position, everything they have done in this election has made it clear what their moral values are. And their moral values suck. They are moral values that prioritize defining marriage the way they want it defined over truth, honor, respect for democracy, and obeying the law. They are the moral values of "get our way, at any cost."

These are not my moral values. If they're not yours, please support No on 8.

Election Snippet: Samuel L. Jackson says No on Prop 8

Today's election snippet: A nifty "No on Prop 8" video from Samuel L. Jackson.

Saying, "I have had it with these motherfucking bigots on our motherfucking Constitution!"

No, not really. That'd be cool, though. Anyway, here's what he really says, and it's also pretty cool. Spread it around. Video below the fold.

No on Prop 8 Website Under Attack

And the sleaze just keeps on coming.

The No on Prop 8 website (the website for the campaign for marriage equality in California) has been subjected to a continuing and coordinated Denial of Service attack, attempting to shut it down and/or make it inaccessible.

It seems to be a coordinated national effort, coming in tandem with a similar attack on the No on 2 website in Florida (another campaign for marriage equality), and with participants from around the country.

So. Let me get this straight. One of the big tropes of the Yes on 8 campaign is that "activist judges" (i.e., the California Supreme Court enforcing the State Constitution) forced same-sex marriage down the throats of an unwilling state, and the Yes on Prop 8 campaign is simply an attempt to redress this wrong and restore democracy.

And yet somehow, their love of democracy doesn't include the idea that their opponents have the right to publicize their views and raise money on their own Website. Their love of democracy somehow doesn't include the right of people to donate money to the political campaign of their choice.

And their love of democracy -- not to mention the traditional morality they're claiming to be preserving -- doesn't include the idea that political campaigns should obey the law.

See, this isn't just sleazy. This isn't just dishonest. This is a federal crime.

The upshot: If you're trying to donate money to the No on Prop 8 campaign, and you can't do it through their website? There are other ways. You can do it through ActBlue. You can do it through Equality California. You can do it through the National Center for Lesbian Rights. If you're trying to help, please don't give up because you can't get through on the No on 8 site. Thanks.

Support Same-Sex Marriage -- Buy Porn!

Hey, this is cool.

If you subscribe to the Crash Pad lesbian porn video series on Thursday, October 30, 100% of your subscription fee will go to the No on 8 campaign to protect same-sex marriage in California.

(Here's more info on the Crash Pad series. These are seriously hot videos, btw, authentic and well-made, passionate and nasty... all those things that Gretas like best.)

If you've been holding off on donating to No on 8... maybe this will inspire you. Support same-sex marriage while you buy porn!

Lies, Blackmail, and Family Values: The Sleazy Tactics of Yes on 8

Stop me if you've heard this one.

It's bad enough that the Yes on Prop 8 campaign -- the initiative to stop same-sex marriage in California -- has been telling outright lies in their campaign ads. (Saying, among other things, that if Prop 8 fails and same-sex marriage is allowed to stand in California, kindergartners will be taught about gay sex in public schools, and churches will lose their tax-exempt status if they refuse to perform same-sex weddings. (Both outright lies. Both lies so ugly that even a Mormon scholar has denounced the campaign for telling them, and a group of 59 law professors has issued a joint statement detailing the falsehoods in the campaign.)

Believe it or not, it gets worse than this.

The Yes on 8 campaign has a TV ad/video running (here's the video, properly fisked), using footage from a 1st grade field trip to their teacher's lesbian wedding... and using it without the parents' permission. These parents are very much against Prop 8 -- the field trip to the wedding was optional, and the parents happily gave permission for their kids to attend -- and they've written letters and given a press conference, expressing their anger that their children are being used to support a cause they so vehemently oppose... and expressly refusing their permission for their children's images to be used in this ad.

Yes on 8 is ignoring the parents' request, and is continuing to run the ads.

So let me get this straight. The whole point of this particular ad is that parents have rights when it comes to raising their kids. The whole point is the claim -- patently false -- that if gay marriage is allowed to remain legal, parents won't be able to decide how their kids are to be raised and what values about marriage they'll be taught.

And yet they're using the images of 1st grade children, not only in a distortion of reality, but in direct opposition to the parents' clearly expressed wishes.

Those are some great family values you got there, people. That's some real respect for parents' rights.

That's enough reason right there to support No on 8. But believe it or not, it gets even worse.

Yes on 8 hasn't just been telling outright lies. They haven't just been using the images of children against their parents' express wishes.

They've resorted to blackmail.

ProtectMarriage.com sent a certified letter to several business that donated money to No on 8, threatening to expose them as opponents of traditional marriage unless they made an equal donation to Yes on 8. The letter went not only to large businesses like Levi Strauss and AT&T; it went to small businesses as well.

Just to be clear: They have a legal right to reveal those names. The identity of companies who donate to political campaigns is a matter of public record. But it is morally repugnant to link a threat of exposure with a request for money. The word for that is blackmail.

And blackmail is not a family value.

So again, let me get this straight. The Yes on 8 campaign claims to be about protecting traditional morality and traditional family values. To accomplish this, they are telling outright lies; violating parents' rights when it comes to their kids; and resorting to out- and- out blackmail.

And this is the morality they want us to support. This is the world they want us to live in.

Okay. Now, the important part.

We can't let this stand.

We can't let this work.

We can't let them win.

The Prop 8 race is very, very close. Nobody knows at this point which way it's going to go. And it's a hugely important race -- not only for California, but for the country. California is widely seen as a political pioneer, and whichever way this election goes, it sets a precedent for the rest of the country. If same-sex marriage is banned in California, it's going to be much harder for it to get a foothold in any other state. And if same-sex marriage is allowed to stand in California, it becomes much more clear every day that family and society is not being brought to a crashing disaster by this latest evolution in the institution of marriage... and the cause of equality gets a big, big lift. (And nobody will be able to blame it on "activist judges".)

The amazing thing about the Internet -- well, one of the amazing things -- is that it makes it much, much easier for political campaigns to raise serious amounts of money in large numbers of small donations. It's one of the main reasons behind the success of the Obama campaign, which by February of this year had raised $28 million online -- 90% of which was in donations of $100 or less, and 40% of which was in donations of $25 or less.

My point: Small donations matter. Small donations add up.

If you can, please donate to the No on Prop 8 campaign. Even a small donation of $25 would make a difference. If you really, really can't, then please, talk to your friends and family. Volunteer to do phone banking. If you can't donate money to help No on 8 run their video ads on TV, then spread the ads directly. Write about it in your blog, and encourage your readers to make donations. Please don't let bigots write their bigotry into the California State Constitution... and don't let lies, blackmail, and the unwilling manipulation of children win.

The John McCain Sex Scandal: The Blowfish Blog

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about John McCain's record on issues having to do with sex... and what it says about his trustworthiness as President, on any issue.

It's titled The John McCain Sex Scandal, and here's the teaser:

Sorry for the inflammatory headline. No, I'm not going to talk about John McCain's purported affair with lobbyist Vicki Iseman. There's not enough evidence, and in any case, I just don't care all that much.

No. The scandal I'm talking about today is John McCain's record on issues having to do with sex.

Which is, in a word, scandalous.

Let's break it down, shall we?

To find out exactly what John McCain's record is on issues of sexual liberty, sexual civil rights, sexual health, and access to sexual information -- and to find out why it makes him a less trustworthy leader in any arena -- read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Support Our Marriage -- Support the "No on 8" Campaign

Today, I'm going to do something I normally don't do.

I'm going to use shameless emotional manipulation to persuade you to support a political cause.

In California, there's an initiative on the November ballot -- Proposition 8 -- that would ban same-sex marriage. In fact, it would amend the State Constitution to do so. In May of this year, the California Supreme Court said that banning same-sex marriage was a violation of the State constitution, and that same-sex couples had a constitutional right to marry. Proposition 8 would take away that right, writing discrimination against gay people into the Constitution of the state.

Until a few weeks ago, No on 8 had a slim but steady lead in the polls. But in recent weeks, the right wing -- especially the religious right, and even more especially the Mormon Church -- has been pouring an enormous amount of money into the campaign to ban same-sex marriage in California. They've been running a series of campaign ads that tell flat-out, outright lies about same-sex marriage: saying, for instance, that legalizing same-sex marriage will force schools to teach that same-sex marriage is just as good as opposite-sex marriage, and that churches who refuse to perform same-sex marriages will lose their tax-exempt status.

The lies are so blatant that even a Mormon scholar has written a detailed analysis pointing out how deceptive and misleading the campaign is, and saying that, "Relying on deceptive arguments is not only contrary to gospel principles, but ultimately works against the very mission of the Church."

But the ad campaign has been extremely effective. Largely as a result of it, the Yes on 8 campaign has pulled ahead in the polls. The No on 8 campaign is running ads to counter this campaign... but they need money to do it.

So here comes the shameless emotional manipulation part.

Readers of my blog have been unbelievably sweet and supportive about me and Ingrid getting married.

If you want to translate that sweetness and support into a practical form -- please support the No on 8 campaign.

If everyone who reads this blog donated even a small amount -- say, $25 -- to the No on 8 campaign, it would be a substantial amount of money. It would go a long way towards countering the fear- mongering lies of the religious right... lies that they're telling to try to undo our marriage.

If you can't donate money, there are other things you can do. You can talk to your friends and family. You can volunteer. You can help spread videos and links. And of course, if you live in California, you can vote.

And if you have a blog? Please, please, blog about this. Spread the word. Get your readers to donate.

Nobody knows for sure what will happen to existing same-sex marriages in California if Prop 8 passes. Chances are good, actually, that our marriage will be fine... and we will then be in the unenviable position of being legally married while our friends can't. (Much the same position that our straight friends have been in for years.)

But if you want me and Ingrid to stay married for sure -- and if you think we had the right to get married in the first place, and want to support that right, not just for us but for other couples like us -- please support No on 8. Thanks.

Top Ten Other Catastrophes That Fundamentalists Blame On Gay People

So, as you may have already read, Christian Civil League of Maine Executive Director Michael Heath has recently written that the cause of the current U.S. financial crisis is -- not deregulation, not unchecked greed, not insane short-sightedness on the part of the financial muckety-mucks, but...

...wait for it...

...gay people.

No, really.

More specifically, God's wrath at gay people.

In yet another example of God's spectacularly lousy aim. (I mean, if he was trying to punish the sinfully homosexual San Francisco in the 1989 earthquake, why was the overwhelmingly heterosexual Marina district hit the hardest, and the overwhelmingly homosexual Castro district left relatively unharmed?)

So since gay people seem to have such astonishing power to destroy (our secret is out at last! Now I'll have to kill you all!), I thought I'd come up with a list of the Top Ten Other Catastrophes That Fundamentalists Blame On Gay People.

10: The Chicago Cubs.

9: The fact that your cousin ran out of liquor at his bachelor party.

8: The ultimate heat-death of the universe. (Or the ultimate Big Freeze of the universe. Take your pick.)

7: The fact that, after having lived in this apartment for three years, Ingrid and I still have a storage room piled full of unpacked boxes. (No, wait. That is the fault of gay people.)

6: The death of a third to a half of the population of Europe in the Middle Ages due to the Black Death. Retroactively. Our power for evil is so vast, and God's wrath towards it is so massive, that it can strike backwards in time.

5: "Star Wars," Episodes 1-3.

4: Austin Scarlett getting voted off "Project Runway," and Wendy Pepper making it to the final three at Bryant Park.

3: The fact that Jane Austen only wrote seven complete novels.

2: The Boston Molasses Disaster of 1919. (No kidding. Look it up.)

And the Number One catastrophe that fundamentalists blame on gay people:

1: The cancellation of "Firefly."

Please chime in with your own suggestions!

Why I DO Care About John McCain’s Gay Chief Of Staff: The Blowfish Blog

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about the recent revelations that John McCain's chief of staff, Mark Buse, is gay.... and why I think this is relevant and important.

It's titled Why I DO Care About John McCain’s Gay Chief Of Staff, and here's the teaser:

First, in case you haven't seen the story yet: John McCain's Chief of Staff, Mark Buse, is gay.

With a reported penchant for multiple partners, and a sling in his home to boot. (In, of all places, his closet. Sometimes the irony is just too obvious.) The story broke on the BlogActive site of the legendary Mike Rogers, who has given Buse the not so coveted Roy Cohn award "for working against the interests of the lesbian and gay community while living as a gay man." And it's corroborated by Michelangelo Signorile.

And I do, in fact, care. But I don't care about Buse per se, or his ex life, or what it says about him and his character.

I care about what it says about McCain.

Because the point of this story is not, "McCain's Chief of Staff is gay."

The point is about McCain. It’s about McCain's hypocrisy, and lack of integrity, and willingness to suck up to the hatefully homophobic far-right wing of the Republican party -- in direct contradiction to what seem to be his own personal beliefs.

To find out more, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

Del Martin, and What Makes a Life Meaningful

A very great woman died yesterday.

I want to talk about her. And I want to talk about some of the things that make a life meaningful.

If you aren't in the queer community, you may not know who Del Martin was. And I'm not going to give you her whole biography here. But I want to hit a few high points before I get to my point.

Del Martin co-founded -- along with her partner of over five decades, Phyllis Lyon -- the Daughters of Bilitis, the very first public and political lesbian rights organization ever in the United States, back in the 1950s. Yes, you heard that decade right -- the 1950s. She and Phyllis were the first and second editors of The Ladder, the DOB's newsletter/ magazine and the first nationally distributed lesbian publication in the U.S.... also begun in the 1950s. She was a leader in the campaign to get the American Psychiatric Association to declare that homosexuality was not a mental illness. She was the first openly lesbian woman elected to the board of the National Organization of Women.

She was co-author with Phyllis in 1972 of the book Lesbian/Woman, one of the first positive, lesbian-authored books about lesbian lives, chosen by Publishers Weekly as one of the 20 most influential women's books of the last 20 years. She was one of the first women to speak about sexism in the gay community. She was a major writer and activist in the movement against domestic violence. She and Phyl were the first couple to be married in San Francisco in the first round of same-sex weddings in 2004... and the first couple to be married in San Francisco in the most recent (and hopefully last) round, in 2008. She...

I could do this for pages. You can read more here, and here, and here, and... you know what, just Google her name. People are writing tributes to her all over the Web.

So this is what I want to say.

Like millions of other queers, I felt terribly sad when I heard she had died. It's almost always sad when someone dies, and it's especially sad when someone this remarkable dies, even if it's someone you've never met. But as sad as it is, it's not a death that seems tragic, or unjust. Because she got to have such an amazing life. She got to be a pioneer, someone who made real change for millions of people after her, and she got to be an influential activist throughout her life. She got to have tributes upon her death from people ranging from Gavin Newsom to Nancy Pelosi to Barack Obama. She got to be part of history. A not- insignificant part.

Plus, she got to have a 50+ year relationship with the love of her life.

And she got to marry that love of her life. Not so special for most people. But think about what the world was like when Del and Phyl were starting as lesbian activists. It was the '50s. Homosexuality was still illegal in every state in the country. Homosexuals were still being put into mental institutions. The thought that one day, gays and lesbians would be able to get married, anywhere in this country, anywhere in this world... it must have been unimaginable. It wasn't even on the radar. They weren't fighting for the right to marry back then. They were fighting to not be put in jail, to not have their bars raided, to not lose their jobs and their children, to not be given shock treatment and lobotomies.

Think about what the world was like for queers then. And for all the messed-up crap, for all the work that still needs to be done, think about what the world is like for queers today.

Del Martin got to see the world change, in ways that at one time it probably wouldn't have even occurred to her to dream about. And she got to be part of that change.

And she got to die at a ripe old age of 87, with her beloved at her side.

What a life to have lived.

I'm not saying that being an influential activist and important historical figure is the only way to create meaning. There are countless people who live and die unheard of by anyone but their immediate circle of family and friends... and their lives have tremendous meaning. Del Martin's life isn't the only way to have a meaningful life.

But it sure is a damn good one.

Recently in this blog, this Christian lackwit -- excuse me, I do so try to criticize ideas and not insult people -- this Christian with some truly lackwitted ideas, said, among other things, that atheists have no hope.

I want to say this: I have hope.

No, I don't have any hope that I'll get to be immortal and live forever after I die. I believe that's a false hope, and I have let go of it. But I have much hope, and many hopes. And one of my greatest hopes is that my life will be even half as meaningful, and half as rich, and have half as much impact on the world around me, as Del Martin's.

In Del's memory, donations can be made to the National Center for Lesbian Rights' No on 8 fund, the campaign to stop the same-sex marriage ban ballot initiative in California in November.

"People of Faith": Religion as Ethical Misdirection

Ever since I started writing about atheism and religion, I've been troubled by the idea that being a strongly religious person, in and of itself, makes you a good person.

I've been troubled by the idea that phrases like "person of faith" or "man of God" are supposed to be understood to mean "good person." Pretty much by definition.

Well, there's a story in the news that's turning this irritation into a full-flown outrage. And it's making me realize what, exactly, it is about this trope that I find so troubling.

From the AP, via PageOneQ (via a comment on Daylight Atheism, where I got this story as well as the idea for this piece), we have the charming story of David Davis. Florida high school principal. Who, when a student told him that she was being harassed by other students for being a lesbian, told her that homosexuality was wrong, told her to stay away from children, and outed her to her parents.

And who, when the girl's friends expressed their support for her by wearing gay pride T-shirts and buttons, interrogated them about their own sexuality and the sexuality of other students... and in some cases, suspended them.

And we have the story of the community who, when the school district was sued by the ACLU for this behavior, and Principal David was reprimanded and demoted, expressed righteous outrage and anger towards the girl's family and the ACLU, and backed Davis up... because he was a Christian.

Saying things like:

"David Davis is a fine man and good principal, and we are a gentle, peaceful, Christian, family-oriented community."

So today, I want to talk about religion as misdirection.

In stage magic, misdirection is a central skill in which the audience's attention is focused on one thing to distract their attention from something else. You do something that looks big and interesting and important with your right hand; people don't notice the less flashy but genuinely important thing you're doing with your left.

I bring this up because I think religion often acts as a form of ethical misdirection. It creates an illusion of good, ethical behavior... which distracts the observer from the question of whether this person's actions really are, in any useful, real-world way, ethical and good.

Think about the quote above. Think about what it means to look at Principal Davis's actions, and call them fine and good, gentle and peaceful.

What is gentle and peaceful about responding to a teenage girl who tells you in confidence that she's being bullied -- by bullying her some more? By blaming the victim? By ignoring her complaint, betraying her confidence, and telling her that she's a bad person who can't be trusted around children?

And what is gentle and peaceful about using your position of power to silence the girl's supporters -- a.k.a. your detractors -- by interrogating them about their own sexuality and kicking them out of school? It's not even Christian; at least if you take the whole "Turn the other cheek" thing to heart. (And, as Ingrid points out, it's more than a little sexually creepy as well. In any other context, a high school principal going around asking his underage students about their sexual practices would be fired so fast it'd make your head spin.)

And yet, the people of this Florida community have been misdirected into thinking that Davis is a gentle, peaceful person. He's a Christian, after all. And in their mindset, "Christian" means "gentle, peaceful person," de facto and by definition.

Religion, essentially, is serving here as the big flashy gesture done with the right hand, that distracts from the actual moral behavior that's being done with the left. It's the shiny show of fineness and goodness, gentleness and peace, that keeps people from seeing that the actions being done are, in fact, brutal, hurtful, domineering, and evil.

And it creates a misdirection so strong that it can effectively replace the entire notion of right and wrong. When hard-line religious believers slander atheists by saying that we have no morality, insisting that there can be no morality without belief in God... well, what is that but a substitution of religion for ethics? What is that but a replacement of your own moral instincts and perceptions with obedience to somebody else's code?

This is a point Ingrid keeps making. When religious believers accuse atheists of taking the easy way out, her reply is, "Do you know how hard it is to live the way I do? It would be so much easier to just do what some book says -- or to do what some leader tells me about what the book says. And it would be so much easier if I could always convince myself that God wanted me to do what I do. To actually think about my hard moral choices? And take responsibility for them? And live with them for the rest of my life? That's not the easy way out. That's harder than you will ever know."

I'm not saying all religious believers do this. There are certainly believers -- usually of the more progressive, less fundamentalist variety -- who think that God created them with a moral compass and bloody well expects them to use it themselves. I'm not saying all religion is ethical misdirection. I'm saying that some of it is. Way, way too much of it.

And I'm not saying this misdirection is conscious, either. Most of the time, I think it probably isn't. I think many religious believers themselves are convinced that they are good people, and that the strength of their religious faith makes them so.

But in a way, that actually makes it more insidious. After all, if someone consciously knows that they're being deceptive, there's always a chance that their conscience will catch up with them. But if they're completely mired in their own rationalization, it becomes a self-perpetuating circle that's almost impossible to break.

Religion can create an ethical misdirection so powerful, it fools even the magician.

And that scares the crap out of me.

(These ideas were largely inspired by the Imaginary Virtues piece on Daylight Atheism, which everyone has to go and read right this minute.)

Who Marriage is For: A Tale of Two Weddings

Who is marriage for now?

And what is it, anyway?

I want to tell a story. Two stories, I guess, about two weddings, that show how radically the answer to that question has changed in just the past few years.

The first time Ingrid and I got married at City Hall, the whole thing had a very different feel. Mayor Gavin Newsom's decision in 2004 to authorize same-sex marriages in San Francisco came totally out of left field, and everyone knew that it would probably be overturned by the courts. (Which, of course, it was.) So underlying the exuberant joy was a feeling of urgency: a knowledge that there was an axe hanging over our heads that could drop any time, and an almost panicky feeling of needing to get your joy in under the wire.

There were huge lines out City Hall doors. Dozens of ad-hoc officiants who had been specially deputized to perform weddings. A dozen or more weddings happening all over City Hall at any given time, all day, every day. It was a lean, mean, fast-moving wedding machine. We couldn't even get very dressed up, because we didn't know if we'd have to wait in line in the rain all day (we got very lucky and got a dry day for our wedding); we signed our papers on the steps of City Hall.

And, of course, the overwhelming majority of those weddings were same-sex. If you were a straight couple wanting to get married at City Hall that first week, and you hadn't already made an appointment, you were out of luck. It was a happy, joyful mob scene... and it was all about the queers.

So the whole thing was less like being welcomed into society as first-class citizens, and more like a massive act of queer civil disobedience. (Improbably led by the Mayor of the city.)

Last month's wedding, the second time Ingrid and I got married at City Hall, was different.

There was no mob scene, no line out the door. There is a possible deadline -- the court decision legalizing same-sex marriage in California could be overturned by a ballot initiative in November -- but November is a ways away, and nobody was feeling that if they didn't get married that day they might never get the chance.

There were certainly a whole lot more weddings happening than there would normally be on a Thursday at City Hall, with extra officiants on hand and a host of volunteers there to shepherd everyone through the process. But it was much calmer, much more business as usual, than the weddings in 2004. It still felt like history in the making, and everyone there was aware of it... but it was a much more peaceful joy, a gentle folding of a new flavor into the batter.

And here's the thing, the point I want to make:

It wasn't just same-sex couples getting married that day.

There were plenty of opposite-sex couples getting married at City Hall the day we were there. In fact, when we signed in for our appointment to get our license and have our ceremony, the schedule listed the couples as "Same sex" or "Opposite sex." And just from a quick glance, it looked like it was running about half and half.

So there we were in City Hall: a City Hall dotted with women marrying women, and men marrying men, and women marrying men.

And it struck me:

This is huge.

This is the change: the change we've been working and fighting for.

This is exactly the way it should be.

In California at least, marriage has changed. It's not longer a relationship and contract between a man and a woman. It's a relationship and contract between two people. Any two people.

In California at least (and Massachusetts, and Canada, and Spain, and a few other places around the world), marriage is no longer about maleness and femaleness; the man's role and the woman's role in the family; the husband and the wife. It's about two people. Spouse 1 and Spouse 2, as they put it on the forms we filled out.

Ingrid is my wife, and I am hers. And that means essentially the same thing as the fact that our friends Tim and Josie are husband and wife.

I think this is what I was getting at when I wrote How Gay Marriage Is Destroying Normal Marriage -- No, Really. Same sex marriage is changing what marriage is -- for everybody. For the men and women getting married in City Hall the day Ingrid and I got married, marriage won't be the same. The fact that Ingrid and I were getting married the same day that they were means that their marriages won't be the same. They won't mean the same thing.

The 2004 weddings were about the queers. June's weddings were about everybody.


Important note: The deadline is a few months off, but there is a deadline. In November, there will be an initiative on the California ballot, asking voters to amend the state Constitution and ban same-sex marriage. If you think this issue and this movement are important, please consider supporting Equality California. If you donate through their Love Stories program by July 31, your donation will be part of a matching program which will make your donation even more valuable.

Oh, and to any polyamorists reading this: Yes, I think it should be available to more than two people. Hopefully that change will come someday as well.

Jealousy, Friendship, And Bisexual Chopped Liver

This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

So there’s this trope I sometimes see in monogamous relationships. (In particular, I see it in advice columns: it came up in a recent Savage Love column, and I’ve seen it more than once in the Dear Abby/ Ann Landers ouvre.)

It goes like this: "My partner has a friend. The friend's sexual orientation is towards the gender that my partner happens to be. Is it reasonable for me to be jealous? Should I permit this friendship to continue?"

(Or the reverse: "I have a friend. The friend's sexual orientation is towards my gender. Is it reasonable for my partner to be jealous, and to want the friendship to end?")

Okay. In trying to make this generic and gender- neutral, I’m being a little obscure. So let's clear it up and make it specific: "My wife has a new friend from work, a straight man she sometimes goes to basketball games with. Should I be jealous?" Or: "I'm a straight woman who's developing a friendship with a lesbian. My husband is jealous. WTF?" (Both real examples from real advice columns, btw. Dear Abby stupidly advised, "By no means should you permit your wife to attend basketball games with another man"; Dan Savage, much more wisely, suggested that the husband of the woman with the lesbian friend should get a first class ticket for the clue train.)

Now, I'm not going to get too deeply into the obvious. I'm not going to get into the craziness of the idea that any and all friendships will eventually turn sexual if the sexual orientations line up right. I'm not going to get into the fucked-upedness of the notion that people should choose their friends entirely on the basis of gender, for the sole purpose of avoiding possible sexual attraction. I'm not going to get into the absurd paranoia that even the slightest hint of sexual attraction in a friendship will eventually overwhelm it with uncontrollable passion. (Hey, for some of us, having a little attraction for a friend makes a friendship more interesting... even when we have no plans whatsoever to act on the attraction, ever.)

And I'm not going to point out that, according to this theory, gay men could never have gay male friends, and lesbians could never be friends with other lesbians.

I'm not even going to get into the borderline- evil concept that people in relationships have veto power over their partners' friends. This is just R-O-N-G Rong, stupidly and evilly wrong, in all but the most extreme circumstances. ("My partner is making friends with the man who tried to murder me." Okay, you have veto power. Everyone else, shut up. Your partner is a free agent, with the right to make their own damn friends independent of you.)

Here's what I want to say instead:

So what are we bisexuals -- chopped liver?

According to this theory, bisexuals could never, ever have any friends at all. We couldn't be friends with gay men, straight men, straight women, lesbians. And we definitely couldn't be friends with other bisexuals. According to this theory, the fact that we're attracted to both women and men makes us ineligible to be friends with anybody, of any gender, ever.

No, that's not quite true. We could be friends with non-monogamous people, and with single people. But once those single get into monogamous relationships -- blammo. That's the end of that friendship.

I'm not just writing this to point up the stupidity and irrationality of this particular form of jealousy. I'm writing it to point up the stupidity and irrationality of bisexual invisibility.

We used to be a culture that assumed heterosexuality. We still are, to a great extent. But even when we don't assume heterosexuality, we are still, far too often, a culture that assumes monosexuality. We are still a culture that asks, "Is he gay or straight?" We are still a culture that sees a woman dating a man and says, "Wait a minute -- she's straight? I thought she was a lesbian!" (Or a woman dating a woman, vice versa.) We are still a culture that ignores the Kinsey scale, the spectrum of sexual orientation -- and the shifts that many of us make over that spectrum throughout our lives.

And this assumption leads to some truly convoluted errors in logic. I recently wrote about an example of this here in this blog, about how the "Is sexual orientation a choice?" debates almost always ignore bisexuals... since even if bisexuals are born bisexual, we still have some degree of choice about which direction to take our lives in. And the bisexual wars in the lesbian community led to my favorite piece of Alice in Wonderland political logic ever: "The lesbians will decide who is a lesbian."

I can see why people tend to overlook bisexuals. Our existence does poke holes in a lot of conventional wisdoms -- especially when it comes to sorting our society by gender and sexual orientation.

But... well, that's actually my point. The existence of bisexuals pokes holes in the sorting of our society by gender and sexual orientation, pointing up ridiculous contradictions and convoluted logic that would be hilarious if it weren't so annoying.

So maybe we should quit sorting our society by gender and sexual orientation.

And maybe we should start with our friendships. And the friendships of our spouses and partners.

Which are none of our damn business anyway.

I Do -- And Why

Ingrid and I are getting married at City Hall today. I'm scheduling this post so that, in theory, it should go up right around the time we say "I do." This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog; it's been edited in small ways to bring it up to date.

As you all no doubt know unless you've been hiding under the blankets for the last month, the California Supreme Court recently ruled that the ban on same-sex marriage violates the state Constitution. Same-sex couples are now able to legally marry in California.

My partner and I are going to be one of those couples.

And I want to talk a little bit about why.

One of the questions that gets raised a lot when the subject of same-sex marriage comes up is, “Why is marriage so important? Why aren't civil unions or domestic partnerships good enough?”

The usual answers are practical ones. And I'll certainly second them. Marriage is recognized around the country and around the world, and all its practical and legal rights and responsibilities get carried with you everywhere you go... in a way that is most emphatically not true for civil unions and domestic partnerships. Besides, it's a well- established principle that “separate but equal” is inherently not equal. The very act of saying, “No, you can't have this thing that everyone else can have, but you can have that other thing we created just for you that's almost exactly like it -- isn't that special?” It's the creation of second-class status, pretty much by definition.

But I want to talk about something else today. I don't want to talk about the legal and practical benefits of marriage. I don't want to talk about hospital visitation rights, child custody rights, inheritance rights, tax benefits, all that good stuff. That's all important, but it's also well-covered ground.

I want to talk about something more intangible. I want to talk about why we're getting married... apart from all that.

Marriage is an unbelievably old human institution and human ritual. My parents did it. My grandparents did it. My great-grandparents did it, and theirs, and theirs. The word and the concept carry a weight, a gravitas, intense and complex social and emotional associations, from centuries and millennia of people participating in it. And as far as I know (admittedly my anthropology is a bit weak), it's existed in one form or another in almost every human society, in almost every period of human history. There may be exceptions, but I don't offhand know of any. Getting married means being a link in a chain, taking part in a ritual that's central to human history and society.

Yes, much of that history and many of those associations are awful. Sexist, propertarian, oppressive. But the evolution of the institution from its complicated and often terrible history into what it is today is part of what gives it its weight. The history of marriage, and its growth away from ownership and towards equal partnership, is the history of the human race’s maturation. Participating in it means participating, not just in the history and the ritual, but in its growth and change.

Civil unions and domestic partnerships just don't have that.

Let's look at the recent Supreme Court ruling in California. Let's look at what it won't change for my partner and me... and what it will.

On a day- to- day level, it probably won't change much. We're domestic partners, and California domestic partnership does afford most of the legal rights and responsibilities that marriage offers. Within the state, anyway. As long as we stay in the state, not much changes in any practical sense.

And I doubt that much will change between her and me. We had a commitment ceremony two and a half years ago: a joyful, exuberant, larger- than- we’d expected celebration that we spent many months planning. That ceremony and celebration, and everything we went through to make it happen, did change our relationship, profoundly, and very much for the better. I doubt that our legal wedding today will have anywhere near that same impact on how we feel about each other.

But it will almost certainly change how we feel about society, and our place in it. And it will change -- officially -- how society feels about us.

When we get married today, the State of California will officially recognize that our relationship has the same weight as our parents' did, and their parents', and theirs. It will officially drop this “separate but equal” bullshit. It will officially stop seeing us as kids at the little table, poor relatives who should be content with leavings and scraps, second-class citizens. It will officially see us as actual, complete, honest- to- gosh citizens.

Now.

Look at the patchwork of laws around this country regarding same-sex marriage. Look at the states that have banned it, and the ones that have gone so far as to ban the recognition of same-sex marriages performed in other states. Look at the fact that if my partner and I travel to Alabama or Michigan, Alaska or Pennsylvania, or any of over two dozen other states, our marriage will be seen as not having existed at all. Null. Void. Look at the Defense of Marriage Act, passed by Congress and signed by President William Jefferson Clinton in 1996, stating that the Federal government will not recognize same-sex marriages, even if they're completely legal in the state where they were performed.

What does that tell you about how those states, and the country as a whole, sees us?

That's the weird paradox of the California ruling. It's thrilling. It's unbelievably great news. It's a huge historical step. But at the same time, it throws the true meaning of this legal patchwork into sharp focus. It makes it that much clearer that queers in this country are, in a very literal sense, second-class citizens. We pay taxes, we serve on juries, we have to obey the same laws that everyone else does... but in a very practical, codified- into- law sense, we just don't count for as much.

Legalizing same-sex marriage isn't just about the legal and practical recognition of our love and our partnership. It's about social recognition. It's about being seen as a full member of society. Kudos for the California Supreme Court for understanding that. Let's hope the rest of the country figures it out eventually.

Important note: As powerful and historic as this step is, it could be undone. In November, there will be an initiative on the California ballot, asking voters to amend the state Constitution and ban same-sex marriage. If you think this issue and this movement are important, please consider supporting Equality California.

A Tale of Two Martyrs: When Jobs and Beliefs Collide

So what should religious believers do when their professional obligations conflict with their religious convictions?

Here in California, the media has been all over the story of the county clerks in Kern County and Butte County, who decided to stop performing wedding ceremonies -- all wedding ceremonies -- as soon as the California Supreme Court ruled that same-sex marriage should be legal. (They're still issuing marriage licenses, which they're legally required to do -- but they won't perform the ceremonies, which they're not.) So couples of all genders and orientations in those counties who want to get married have to either do it before the cutoff date, find their own officiant, or go outside the county. Even couples who already had wedding appointments are having to either hurriedly change their wedding dates or go elsewhere.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

Both clerks transparently lie claim that their decision wasn't motivated by an objection to same-sex marriage. They cite expenses/ logistical problems/ staffing issues with the county performing weddings of any kind. And the fact that they decided to cut off weddings at the exact historical moment that same-sex marriage got legalized in their state? Pure coincidence. That's their story, and they're sticking to it. (The Kern County clerk is actually being caught in the lie... but she's still sticking to the story, and otherwise clamming up.)

See, refusing to marry same-sex couples while still marrying opposite-sex couples would be a clear violation of the law. Refusal to perform a task that's part of your government job, simply because you don't personally approve of the people you're doing it for? That's grounds for dismissal. Maybe even grounds for prosecution. So if these county clerks want to stay true to their presumed convictions by refusing to perform same-sex weddings -- and at the same time, still keep their jobs -- they have to play this weaselly game, refusing to publicly say what they're doing and why, and giving transparently half-assed excuses, even though everyone knows exactly what's going on.

And presumably, they want to keep their jobs.

Now.

Compare, please, with this story.

A high school principal in Columbia, S.C., is stepping down from his post after being asked to allow the creation of a gay-straight alliance club at his school.

Irmo High School principal Eddie Walker had a similar conflict between his professional and legal obligations as a public servant, and his personal religious convictions. He had a professional obligation to let the gay-straight alliance club go forward: federal law says that a school can't refuse to allow a club to form simply based on the club's purpose and viewpoint. And he had religious objections to supporting a club of this nature.

So he resigned.

Now. Obviously, I don't agree with his religious beliefs about homosexuality. Obviously, I think his religious beliefs are misinformed at best, ignorant and bigoted and grotesquely out of touch with reality at worst. I don't even need to go there. Insert boilerplate rant.

But at least he had the courage of his convictions.

At least he was willing to make a sacrifice for his convictions.

Isn’t that what we’re always saying when people’s deeply held religious beliefs conflict with their jobs? Especially when those jobs are in the public sector? When pharmacists don’t want to provide birth control because it goes against their religion, for instance, we say, “Well, if you’re not willing to provide a legal drug legally prescribed for someone by their doctor, perhaps you shouldn’t be a pharmacist.” When public school teachers don’t want to teach evolution and want to teach creationism because of their religious beliefs, we say, “Well, if you feel that way, perhaps you shouldn’t be teaching biology in the public schools.”

So when a school principal doesn't want to support a gay/straight alliance in his school -- and decides that he therefore should no longer be a principal - it's hard for me to say much about it other than, "Yup. You're right. You shouldn't be a principal." I obviously think that his convictions have a screw loose... but at least he has the courage of them. And at least he's acting in a way that both stands up for his convictions and doesn't shove them down everyone else's throat.

A common trope among Christian theists is, "What would Jesus do?" Personally, I think the Jesus character in the New Testament is an ambiguous figure and in many ways a troubling one, and I certainly wouldn't take every piece of his behavior as a model. But whatever else you may think about him, the dude had the courage of his convictions. He said what he thought. And he was willing to accept consequences -- pretty damn harsh consequences -- for what he said and thought. Okay, there was a certain amount of, "You said it, I didn't" pussyfooting near the end of the story when he was being interrogated... but for the most part, covering his ass was not a high priority.

And it shouldn't be for the Kern and Butte County Clerks, either.

I'm not even getting into the whole "You shouldn't base your professional decisions on your religious beliefs, because religious beliefs are notoriously resistant to evidence and reason" thing. And I'm also not getting into the whole "Separation of church and state protects you, too, you don't want some clerk refusing to let you register to vote or file the deed to your house because their religion objects" thing.

My point is this:

When your professional obligations conflict with your religious convictions, don't your convictions themselves require you to piss or get off the pot? Don't your convictions themselves call on you to either perform the job you've promised to perform -- or stand up and say, "I can't in conscience do this job anymore, so I'm resigning"? Don't your convictions require you to do anything at all other than refuse to perform the public service that the taxpayers are paying you to do, screw up lots of people's lives in the process... and come up with obviously fake, weaselly excuses for why you're doing it?

Unless, of course, you belong to the First Church of the Weasel.

In which case, knock yourself out.

High school principal story via Friendly Atheist, which is also where I developed part of this piece.

Loading The Dice: Bisexuality And Choice

This piece was originally published on the Blowfish Blog.

In the various and sundry debates about gay rights, the question of whether sexual orientation is a choice comes up with almost irritating predictability. And when it does, one of the things I’ve noticed is that bisexuality -- as it so often does -- gets completely ignored.

So I want to talk a little about bisexuality, sexual orientation, and choice.

Because, speaking as a bisexual person, in my experience I do have something of a choice.

Of course it’s true that I don’t have a choice about who I’m sexually attracted to. And I didn’t have a choice about who I fell in love with. I don’t choose that, any more than anyone else does. But back when I was dating, I did have a choice about who I dated and who I socialized with. At the time that I fell for Ingrid, I was dating women, and socializing in the lesbian community, a whole lot more than I was with men and in the hetero community. And I was doing it out of choice.

On the whole, I like women more than men. Sexually I like both roughly the same (with something of a preference for women on the whole, but with that preference varying a lot over the years). But personally, emotionally, I tend to like women better than men. Not as friends necessarily -- I have plenty of male friends -- but as romantic partners. The personality traits that, in my experience, women tend to have more than men -- cooperation, empathy, emotional expressiveness, good listening skills, yada yada yada -- are traits that I like, and traits that I find central to a good relationship.

Now, of course, that’s a generalization, and a very broad one at that. Not all women are like that, and plenty of men are. And if I’d happened to meet and fall for a man who was cooperative and empathetic and expressive and a good listener etc., then that would have been just ducky. But back when I was dating, dating women just seemed to make more sense. It was the smart way of playing the odds. It was loading the dice.

And it works the other way, too. I’ve known other bisexuals who date and socialize more heterosexually --again out of choice.

It is, IMO, one of the differences between being bisexual and being monosexual (hetero- or homosexual). You can, in theory, be happy being sexual and romantic with someone of either gender... and so you have at least some degree of choice about which gender you get involved with. Indeed, if your relationship preference is very strong indeed, you can actually flat-out refuse to get involved with potential partners of one gender or the other, even if your libido or your heart is temporarily pulling you towards them... and unlike homosexual people who refuse to accept their homosexuality, you can still have a happy and satisfying sexual and romantic life. And even if you don’t go that far, you can still generally date and socialize with the gender and the community you’d prefer to end up with. You can’t choose who you get the hots for... but you can hang out with the kind of people you’d be happy to hook up with if lightning strikes. You can load the dice.

So when I hear people defend gay rights by saying, “Of course it’s not a choice, who would choose to be queer, who would choose to be oppressed and vilified and discriminated against?”, my reaction is to raise my hand and say, “Me. Over here. I would.” Of course I’d rather not be oppressed, etc. -- but even with all of those drawbacks, I’d still choose to be queer. And I’d still choose to be in a queer relationship. I did.

And this is a big part of the reason that I think the “choice” issue is a red herring in the gay rights debates. After all, you could argue that pedophiles don’t choose to be attracted to children, and still think it’s profoundly immoral to act on that attraction. The important question in the gay rights debates is not whether being queer is a choice, but whether there’s any reason whatsoever to think that being queer is harmful. And by now, the evidence is overwhelming that it is not. Whether it’s a choice or not is irrelevant. It is still, flatly and unequivocally, none of anybody else’s damn business.

I developed these ideas in a discussion thread on Dispatches from the Culture Wars. Thanks, Ed.

I Do -- And Why: The Blowfish Blog

Remember about a week ago, when the California Supreme Court same-sex ruling came out? I was all a-twitter with girlish glee and didn't know what to say, but said I'd say more later?

This is later.

I have a new piece up on the Blowfish Blog. It's about why we want to get married -- not civil- unioned, not domestic- partnered, but married. It's about why we'd want that even if all the legal and financial and other practical questions were a moot point. And it's about what same-sex marriage in California will change for us... and what it won't. It's called I Do -- And Why, and here's the teaser:

But I want to talk about something else today. I don't want to talk about the legal and practical benefits of marriage. I don't want to talk about hospital visitation rights, child custody rights, inheritance rights, tax benefits, all that good stuff. That's all important, but it's also well-covered ground. I want to talk about something more intangible. I want to talk about why we're getting married... apart from all that.

To find out why, read the rest of the piece. Enjoy!

They Said Yes!

They said yes!

The California Supreme Court said yes.

Ingrid and I can get married now. Legally. (Or we can in 30 days, when the ruling takes effect.)

I kind of don't know what to say about this. I'm still processing it. And it still could be overturned: it looks like there's going to be a ballot initiative in November to amend the state Constitution to ban same-sex marriage, and it could pass. And of course, all of this is going to affect the Presidential election, and I have no idea how that's going to play out. So part of me is freaking the fuck out.

But the other part of me is so thrilled I can't speak. We've been waiting for this for so long. And -- how shall I put this? -- we've been not waiting for this for so long. When I first came out (over 20 years ago now), same-sex marriage wasn't even on the table. It never even occurred to me that it would be an option.

I don't yet know what to say. I'm sure I'll have more to say in the coming days, weeks, and months. But I know I want to say this now:

Things change. Don't ever let anyone tell you that things don't change.