I’m looking forward to seeing this:
This new campaign delivers a body blow. Called “Freedom to Serve, Freedom to Marry,” the information campaign is targeted at educating the public about the Defense of Marriage Act and its impact on gay and lesbian military families.
Evan Wolfson, the founder of Freedom to Marry, one of the organizations behind the campaign, spells it out:s:
Many people assume that, with the repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” gay men and lesbians serving our country are now being treated fairly and equally, but that’s not the case. We ended the ban on open military service for gay and lesbian Americans, but there is still federal ban on treating married service members as what they are: married.
(Thanks to towleroad.)
This is the first of a series of comic strips cartoonist Garry Trudeau planned for this week which deal with the recent spate of anti-abortion ultrasound bills. (Click to enlarge the strip.)
Several newspapers have made plans to run repeat Doonesbury comic strips in lieu of the strips.
“We thought the strips were over the line for the comics pages and won’t be running them,” said Oregonian features editor JoLene Krawczak “We’ll tell readers where they can read them online.”
(Note to newspaper editors: This is not a time to send your readers to other online sources to get what they want, in case you haven’t noticed.)
The more controversial strips, expected to run Tuesday and Thursday, contain the lines “Do your parents know you’re a slut?” (directed at the strip’s protagonist by a “state legislator” after she tell him she’s been using the health clinic’s contraceptive services) and “By the authority invested in me by the GOP base, I thee rape” (announced by the doctor administering the pre-termination trans-vaginal sonogram).
This will be the first time in Doonesbury‘s 42-year history that Trudeau has used the strip to sound off about the abortion debate.
“I chose the topic of compulsory sonograms because it was in the news and because of its relevance to the broader battle over women’s health currently being waged in several states,” Trudeau told The Washington Post.
He continued:
“For some reason, the GOP has chosen 2012 to re-litigate reproductive freedom, an issue that was resolved decades ago. Why [Rick] Santorum, [Rush] Limbaugh et al. thought this would be a good time to declare war on half the electorate, I cannot say. But to ignore it would have been comedy malpractice.”
Posted in Body, Humor, News Items
Thanks to Emily Horne and Joey Comeau at A Softer World.
This new video from FeministFrequency’s Anita Sarkeesian applies the Bechdel Rule to the 2012 Academy Award nominees. Woody Allen gets spanked for his treatment of Gertrude Stein in Midnight in Paris… and there are some good movie tips, too.
There are more commentary videos at FeministFrequency.com. While you’re there, consider making a donation – if only because we hardly ever get to hear “feminist” and “pop culture” linked together.
Posted in Culture
For some reason, even though I’m not a big fan of the forced romanticism of Valentine’s Day, the holiday has seemed to creep into my fiction over the years:
Underwired – A lonely woman shops for bras on Valentine’s Day and finds the perfect bra and more.
Chocolate Fondue – A Victorian fantasy about a femme top and a pot of melted chocolate.
The Pillow Fight – A random encounter leads to SF’s infamous Valentine’s Day Pillow Fight.
For slightly deeper Valentine’s Day reading, check out Something About Love, a serial story I wrote a couple of years ago as part of a Freedom To Marry event that spanned several different blogs.
The rainbow-hued wires have been buzzing this week with bitching and tsking over actress Cynthia Nixon’s interview with the New York Times Magazine, where she told writer Alex Witchel that for her, being gay is a choice.
Her comment was made while telling a story about how she prepared an empowering speech for a gay audience, and was counseled to edit out the line, “I’ve been straight and I’ve been gay, and gay is better”. Event organizers felt that Nixon’s statement implied that homosexuality can be a choice which was not a message they supported, to which she replied, “And for me, it is a choice. I understand that for many people it’s not, but for me it’s a choice, and you don’t get to define my gayness for me.”
Immediately, Nixon began to be pecked at by the self-righteous peckers of gay rights organizations and the gay press, who hopped up and down and said her statement fuels the conservative belief that gay can be prayed away.
Today, Nixon made a statement to The Advocate, in an attempt to clarify and contextualize her comment:
“My recent comments in The New York Times were about me and my personal story of being gay. I believe we all have different ways we came to the gay community and we can’t, and shouldn’t be, pigeon-holed into one cultural narrative which can be uninclusive and disempowering. However, to the extent that anyone wishes to interpret my words in a strictly legal context I would like to clarify:
“While I don’t often use the word, the technically precise term for my orientation is bisexual. I believe bisexuality is not a choice, it is a fact. What I have ‘chosen’ is to be in a gay relationship.”
So there. We made her turn in her gay card so she could be reissued a bi card. Now that we’ve forced the woman into clarifying her sexual orientation for us, we can all feel better about our own gayness.
Why does the LGBT community continually act like it’s Gay Day at Disneyland and the gayest amongst us will go to the front of the line at Space Mountain?
Nixon, 46, was in a 15-year relationship with a man that started in her early 20s. The two have two children together. Since 2004, she has been in a relationship with education activist Christine Marinoni. Marinoni gave birth to the couple’s son in 2011.
Nixon’s story isn’t that different than mine (well, except for all her talent and fame). I also came out in my 30s. I was married to a man, and together we had a child. Since I’m confessing: it was actually my second marriage to a man. I was involved in two opposite-sex relationships that totaled nearly 27 years, the first a right-after-college-graduation marriage to my high school sweetheart.
No one, especially not a reporter, has ever sat me down to ask if I think my lesbian identity is a choice. But I’d probably say “yes”.
Make no mistake, I’m as gay as the next dyke. But somewhere back before the turn of the century, I made a clear-cut decision to come out and live the rest of my romantic life in the company of women. Life with men wasn’t awful. I suppose I could have kept doing it – and millions of women have, for reasons of security, religion, and fear of being ostracized.
But the question of could I do it again is a much tougher one. There are just too many variables. I’ve never identified as bi because I never pictured myself returning to relationships with men. And, admittedly, I’m the first one to rankle when Dan Savage starts talking about the sexual fluidity of women. I don’t think of my sexuality as all that fluid. Before I came out, I just hadn’t considered my options.
I thought of myself as perfectly straight, right up until I met a woman who rang my chimes harder than any man ever had. While I didn’t have a relationship with her, I was so unnerved, I was compelled to look deeper into myself. It was my own dark night of the soul. But unlike Jonah, I wasn’t coughed up in a ball of whale spit. Instead, I landed on the beach covered in lube and waving the rainbow flag.
So I was married to men. Does that make me less gay now?
Consider this: With the exception of a very few Gold Star Lesbians, every lesbian woman I know has slept with more men than I have (three).
I understand why we don’t want to give haters any more ammunition to use against us, but the sort of backlash aimed at Nixon fractionates us. It divides our own community into gay, gayer, gayest, bisexual, and so forth. It’s a complete waste of energy that could be better spent scaffolding our community, not tearing it down.
This type of reactionary thinking panders to conservatives and will ultimately hinder the gay rights movement.
For example, in a 2006 article in Pediatrics: The Journal of the American Academy of Pediatrics supporting gay marriage, the Academy stated that the vast majority of children with parents in same-sex relationships were conceived in heterosexual relationships. So when we talk about gay families, should we exclude them from our numbers? Make them draw a bi card? No, we need to coax these moms and dads out to be counted. We need to encourage them to come out to their family doctors. Then, perhaps the estimated number of kids being raised by gay parents won’t be so wide-ranging, anywhere from 1 million to 10 million in the U.S., and will settle near the higher end (and probably more realistic) figure.
That’s how we gain political clout.
For political recognition, we don’t need fractions, we need whole numbers. We need to throw our gay arms open and embrace the entire damn rainbow.
While we’re at it, let’s all apologize to Cynthia Nixon. She tries to do right by our community. And, she’s more than gay enough for me.
Posted in LGBT, News Items, Parenting, People
This New Year’s Eve short story was originally posted in 2007. Enjoy!
She held out her wineglass, and I filled it four-fifths of the way up with chardonnay. Her eyes widened.
“Trying to get me drunk?”
I leaned back against the kitchen counter, taking the time to survey her. I smiled what I hoped was my cockiest smile.
“Lady, I don’t even know you.” Continue reading
Girl gamers offer a manifesto to bring equality to gaming. Let’s bring it to real life, too.
Whether you celebrate Christmas, Chanukah, Kwanzaa, the recent solstice, the Pastafarian‘s Holiday, or Seinfeld’s Festivus, have a happy one. Let’s keep hoping for peace on Earth and equality for all.
Posted in News Items
This is the time of the year when Joe over at Joe.My.God posts his holiday classic, Dance of the Sugar Plum Lesbians. It’s up for the eighth year and it’s still one of my favorites. Wander over and check it out.
Posted in Butch/Femme, LGBT
Tagged grand central station, holiday, Joe, Joe.My.God, lesbians, New York, nutcracker, Sugarplum
When the crew and family readiness group of the dock landing ship Oak Hill sold raffle tickets for the first kiss at homecoming, Petty Officer 2nd Class Marissa Gaeta bought 50. Since that is fewer than many people buy, Gaeta never guessed she win the kiss. But she did, and when the Oak Hill docked in Virginia Beach after nearly three months training with military allies in Central America, Gaeta’s girlfriend of two years, Petty Officer 3rd Class Citlalic Snell, was waiting when she crossed the bow.
This is the first time the happily reunited couple has been gay. The women kissed and the crowd cheered.
Don’t ask. Just tell them we’re home.
Posted in LGBT
When Kid was little we had a television set. (I know it’s un-American, but we haven’t had one for most of his life.) The television shows aimed at children were insipid and he wasn’t yet old enough to appreciate the charms of The West Wing. So, we watched cooking shows – lots of cooking shows. After all, who can appreciate Emeril Lagasse’s obnoxious “BAM” more than a four-year-old?
Today, I introduced him to the charms of Hannah Hart’s “My Drunk Kitchen”. Sure, it’s probably inappropriate viewing for a kid, but he says it beats the crap out of anything he’s seen on The Food Network. Hannah is funny, gay, and a little nuts. We’re both in love with Hannah.
This is a re-post of a holiday story from 2007…
It was one of those holiday-gathering-slash-game-night things.
We were drinking sweet beverages ladled out of a big bowl, and took turns calling out the answers to Trivial Pursuit questions until we all got restless, and wandered off to the kitchen for another round of snacks.
“No. Really,” Cara was saying. “If I was on ‘Jeopardy’ and the topics were food, shoes, human genetics, and bad date stories, I’d have it in the bag.”
“Right,” said Perry, “you do know a lot about shoes.”
Cara rolled her eyes at me, and slapped Perry’s arm.
“All I’m saying, is outside of work, there’s not much going on these days.”
I looked at the black and white zebra-striped pumps she was wearing. I had noticed earlier that they had a red sole.
“Judging by the vintage Louboutins, I’d say there’s at least one area of your life that’s rockin’ besides work.”
“Thanks for noticing,” she said. “But… hey… how did you know these are Christian Louboutin?”
“By the flash of red – I keep up.”
“You never fail to amaze me,” she said.
“Or me,” Perry said, looking up and down my lanky frame, covered in faded jeans, a starched white shirt, and a grey cashmere vest, and coming to rest on my well-worn Tony Lama boots. “Who would have guessed you were a closet fashion queen?”
“There’s nothing in my closet but clothes. You know that better than anyone, Perry.”
We exchanged the sort of smile that passes between old friends and and even older lovers.
“Well,” Cara said. “It’s that time. I’ve got to get myself home. Alone.”
“I’m glad you were here,” I said. “You brought beauty to an otherwise dull night.”
She flipped her hair back off her shoulder and gave me a coy look and a little drawl, “I’m betting you talk to all the girls that way.”
“Nope. She never talked to me that way,” Perry said. “Not once.”
Cara started for the front door.
I grabbed Perry by the arm. “Come on. I helped you hang the mistletoe in the hallway. Let’s go kiss her goodnight.”
“Together?” Perry said. “Both of us?”
“Hell, yeah,” I said. “She’s hot and it’s the holidays. Let’s have a little fun.”
We followed her to the front hall.
“Can I help you with your coat, Ma’am?” I said in my deepest voice, trying to add a touch of Rhett Butler to my inflection.
“Well, you sure can, you sweet thing,” she said, playing along.
“Can I find your purse for you?” Perry asked.
Cara looked from one of us to the other. “What are you two up to?”
“Nothing really,” I said. “It’s just that I came over early, before the party started, to help Perry hang the mistletoe. She said it was good luck to help put it up, and maybe I’d get lucky and kiss a pretty girl.”
I tried to smile a winning smile.
Cara looked at Perry. “Did you tell her that?”
“You know, standing under the mistletoe almost guarantees you’ll get kissed,” said Perry looking up. “See, there’s a big ball of it above my head right now.”
She reached out and took Cara by the hand, pulling her in closer. “And now it’s right over your head, too.”
Perry kissed Cara gently on the lips.
“Oh, my,” Cara said, feigning surprise.
I tapped Perry on the shoulder. “Excuse me. May I cut in?”
Before she could protest, I wrapped my arms around Cara and began to kiss her lingeringly, showing off a little for Perry.
I stopped when I heard Perry clear her throat. She turned Cara around kissed her again.
Cara came up for air. “Girls, girls. My heck. This is some holiday tradition you’ve got going here.”
She stepped back and smiled a little wickedly.
“Well look at that, now it’s just the two of you under the mistletoe.”
Perry and I looked at each other.
“We couldn’t,” I said.
“We never do,” said Perry.
“But you did,” said Cara.
“It’s been years,” I said. “That was college.”
“We’re buddies,” Perry said.
Cara crossed her arms as though she meant to wait us out. “All in good fun.”
She tapped her zebra-striped toe.
I shrugged and stepped a little closer to Perry and kissed her lightly on the lips and started to turn away.
But Perry surprised me by grabbing my belt and and pulling me back to her. Then, digging her fingers into the back of my cropped hair, she began kissing me for real. As startled as I was, I felt my lips soften and open, as if of their own volition, responding to her still-familiar touch and scent. From somewhere far away, I heard a soft, deep moan. Honestly, I’m not sure if it came from Perry or me. The tip of her tongue began to trace a smooth oval just inside the rim of my lips, and I felt one of her hands slide down to the small of my back, pressing me even closer to her. I let my tongue find hers, and they danced there for a minute.
Then – as suddenly as it started – we broke away, each of us gasping a little.
“Whew. Just like riding a bicycle,” Perry said.
“Yep,” I said, trying to hold on to what was left of my cool.
There was an awkward silence.
“Damn,” said Cara. “Two butch girls like you. Now that was a holiday treat. Thank you. A lady knows when to make an exit, so I’ll leave the two of you alone.” She opened the door and shut it behind her.
Perry and I stood in the hallway, looking at the closed door.
“That was hot,” I said.
“Sure was,” Perry agreed.
“Had a real effect on Cara, didn’t it?”
“Seemed to,” Perry said.
“S0… when do you think she’ll come out of the coat closet?”
###
Coming to us from Norway, self-described “pin-up performance band,” The Hungry Hearts offers up this lesbian anthem, “In Your Face”. The video includes instruction in an accompanying dance. The lyrics are a little hard to hear through the electronica, but it’s part of what makes it so much fun, when you figure out what they’re saying!
(Far sexier than any of the anthems mentioned on this blog before!)
The Hungry Hearts consists of six permanent members, five of which are from Norway and one of whom is Portuguese and lives in New York. Together, they create and produce performances, concerts, films, music, texts and photography.
The six members continuously develop alter egos who live their own lives in the films and performances we develop. The Bride of Christ, Rosita Lonelyheart, Anatola Twins, the Pantyhose Lady and Betty Ballbreaker are so far the most prominent ones. Sometimes they give wild speeches where they indulge in their obsession with the female body.
Thanks to @addycat for the introduction!
Posted in Culture