Last night I was looking through a lot of online photo galleries with images from yesterday's big marriage equality day in DC. I'm not ashamed to admit I was fighting back tears...and I actually let a couple escape my tear ducts.
What love looks like:
In my experience, one of the most difficult populations to work with (in my field of work) are closeted Latino gay men. Oftentimes, there is a self-hatred so ingrained within themselves that they lack the motivation to change their health behaviors because change would be pointless. The depression is so deep they don't see a way out of it. Rather than deal with the depression, they get high, they get drunk, they have sex without protection with prostitutes or women they randomly meet (in order to feel manly).
There are two forces at work here: Machismo and religion. I understand that Machismo is a multifaceted problem but it comes down to this--Real Men/Manly Men are not attracted to other men. So, if a man is attracted to other men despite his ability to change, he is both not a Real Man and weak because he is not strong enough to change. When you come from a country with a very patriarchal social structure, there is much weight placed on one's manliness, basically from birth. And the burden of not conforming to what is expected of you can damage one's psyche.
As far as religion goes, Latinos tend to be very religious. Often, religion and culture is so intertwined that it is impossible to distinguish the two. Just go to Mexico City on December 12 and you'll know what I mean. For the most part, most Christian faiths do not accept homosexuality, even condemn homosexuality and profess that homosexuality is an impediment to heaven. And because every good Christian strives to lead a pious life and to make God happy, the closeted Latino gay man has no option but to change.
Except homosexuality is not a choice so how can one change that part of themselves?
According to one particular man we treated, his church thought they had the answer. M had been going to this particular church for many years and was struggling with coming out. He wanted to please God by changing who he is but felt that wasn't possible. That is until M confessed to a minister during a counseling session how he thought he was gay and the minister told him that he had a cure.
The cure? Well, M had to lock himself in a room for 4 days. He had to fast the whole time and only drink water. And he had to pray to God every minute of the day. According to the minister, if that didn't work, he was destined to go to hell.
M did the cure exactly as it was described to him. It turns out he was destined to be hospitalized. For exhaustion (apparently it doesn't just happen to Lindsay Lohan).
Moreover, M wasn't 'cured.'
Through a lot of help from my staff, M left the church and came out of the closet. Not only is M no longer depressed, but he has found the strength within himself to tell his story to others who find themselves in the same situation.
M is still very religious. He attends a different church now. He now believes that God made him just as he is and will love him no matter what. M still needs to battle against the Machismo of our culture, but at least he has reconciled with his God.
I've got a lump in my throat as I type this.
If anyone is in the mood for some protesting, I encourage you to check out this website, which helped coordinate these events all over the country. For the DC peeps, our event is tonight in Dupont Circle.
It feels like I'm reliving the passage of Prop 8 all over again.
Today is D Day, or Day of Decision, as the California State Supreme Court is expected to announce its opinion on three cases filed shortly after the passage of Prop 8, all of which sought to overturn the proposition that amended the state constitution to include the refusal of equal rights for gays.
At the time of its passage, I really couldn't find the words to express the extreme disappointment in my home state (ugh. By the looks of the previous statement, I still can't). After all, this state is the home to San Francisco, Hollywood, and Disneyland (which would all be nothing without the gays). How could the state relegate gays to second class citizenry? How could the Mormon and Catholic Church wield their political prowess and still be tax exempt in this day and age? Whatever happened to the separation of church and state? How soon until we become a theocracy? How can we allow religious bigots to determine the rights of a minority?
In their decision to legalize same sex marriage, the Iowa Supreme Court said it best:
While unexpressed, religious sentiment most likely motivates many, if not most, opponents of same-sex civil marriage and perhaps even shapes the views of those people who may accept gay and lesbian unions but find the notion of same-sex marriage unsettling. Whether expressly or impliedly, much of society rejects same-sex marriage due to sincere, deeply ingrained—even fundamental—religious belief.
...Our constitution does not permit any branch of government to resolve these types of religious debates. State government can have no religious views, either directly or indirectly, expressed through its legislation. As a result, civil marriage must be judged under our constitutional standards of equal protection and not under religious doctrines or the religious views of individuals.
On Friday, the Iowa State Supreme Court ruled unanimously that the state's DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act) is unconstitutional. After the seriously big downer that was Prop 8, this was the most awesome news in...well...since the California State Supreme Court upheld a law allowing same-sex marriage.
I actually read the decision Saturday morning. It's 69 pages. Hey, Nicky woke me up at 7 a.m. and Jesse doesn't usually wake up until 11 so I had plenty of time to kill. Allow me to summarize the key awesome points for you...
I can't really blog about my feelings regarding the passage of Prop 8. Sure, it's been a month since it passed, but I've yet to bring myself to put my emotions into words and anything I write just wouldn't be enough to express the disappointment I feel. And I'm not even gay. Ugh. I can't even begin to imagine...
Yup. Still can't put it into words. Moving on...
The day after it's passing, I called one of my best gays in Cali, A. A is Latino, a dancer, a fashionista, politically indifferent, a horrible student and an excellent procrastinator. He's almost 30 and didn't come out to his family until 6 years ago although he had always known he is gay. That wasn't because he was putting it off in the ultimate show of procrastination. He was afraid of how his mother (a Mexican immigrant who is a devout Catholic and had NO idea her son is gay) would react.
When A is on, he's ON. He's flamboyant and graceful. He's loud and occasionally abrasive. If you're outfit sucks, he'll tell you even if he doesn't know you. He's in-your-face brutally honest. When he's 'off', he's calm and reserved. Proper and polite. His voice is deep and manly. He's an excellent actor. After keeping his true self from his family for so long, he had plenty of time to hone his acting skills.
It's hard to be gay in the OC. It's the red part in a sea of blue in an electoral map of CA. It's conservative and often not gay friendly, unless you're in Laguna, where the hippie artist liberals hang out (that's not a dig, I love Laguna...and I don't mean the part they showed on MTV's Laguna Beach: the Real OC). A has lived in Orange County his whole life.
Being politically indifferent, A was the first person I thought of to call on Nov. 5th after I heard the news of Prop 8's official passing. After an emotional campaign that elicited passionate responses from normally indifferent individuals (see: Jesse), I was curious to know how A was doing.
His reaction:
I'm sad. I don't get it. When the Supreme Court said we could get married, I was so happy. I felt like, finally, people will start to see us as regular people. Wow. The gays are normal. What a concept, you know. And then the people voted and they're basically saying, we'll never be like everyone else. I just don't get it. I pay taxes too. I vote and go to jury duty and other things that you do. Why am I not allowed to do the same things? Because I'm gay? Because your church says that I chose to be this way and I'm wrong? Like I had a choice! Bish, PUH-LEASE!
For some reason unknown to even me, I haven't really spoken about the elections with my family. Despite being some seriously traditional, Church-going, Feast-Day-observing, Abortion-hating Catholics, my family tends to vote Dem. My sister is a long-time educator in various capacities over the years in Orange County public schools and she is a fierce opponent of vouchers and No Child Left Behind. My mom is all about helping the less fortunate and I can't remember the last time the Republicans did anything to benefit the poor. And well, my brother is my brother. I couldn't tell you what or who he would vote for because we NEVER talk about politics (to put it into perspective, we can't really talk about college football either since he's a diehard Notre Lame fan).
On election day, my mom called me while at work. "Did you vote today?" she asked me. I replied, "Yes, of course." With hesitiation she asked, "Who did you vote for?" I responded indignantly, "MOM! I can't believe you asked me that! Yes, I voted for Obama!" Not understanding where my attitude came from (yes, I was insulted that my mom, even for a second, assumed I had voted for a Republican for the first time in my life), my mom answered, "Well, I didn't know. You haven't talked to me about it and I thought since you work in DC that maybe you liked Bush." OH. MY. GOD. Not only did my mom think I was backing McCain, she presumed that I supported Bush's presidency! Does she not know who I am?
After calming down, I realized that, despite speaking to my mom nearly every day, I kinda left out the part of my life the past few months where I volunteered for the Obama campaign all those times, especially on Latino night so I could convince my fellow brown peeps to support Obama. I simply didn't tell her because I really didn't think she'd understand what an Obama presidency meant to me.
Later that day, while waiting for the first results to come in, I spoke to my sister about the elections for the first time. She was on her way to drop off her ballot in California. I reminded her to vote for Obama, which was a given. But then I realized that there was one big political question that was not a given with my sister--Prop 8 (which would ban same sex marriage). So I asked her, "You're voting No on Prop 8, right?" Without skipping a beat, "Liz, for some people, voting is a private matter." Despite her pulling a Sarah Palin on me, I knew what that meant. She was voting Yes. And I was ashamed.
After speaking to her, I vented to Jesse. "How could I possibly be related to these people? First my mom thinks I actually liked Bush and now my sister is voting to put discrimination into the constitution of the most liberal state in the Union? Who are these people? How the Eff did I turn out this way?" Before I started to wonder if I was adopted, it dawned on me that I should've pushed the issue with my sister and I should've told my mom about the volunteering I did. Sure, my mom just misunderstood, but I really didn't understand where my sister was coming from. As a minority, we've experienced discrimination before and it sucks. Why my sister would support Prop 8 is beyond me.
Unfortunately, Prop 8 passed. It's not over yet though. I heard the ACLU has filed a suit or brief of some sort so the fight is still on.
I can't help feeling like I could've done more. I had worked so hard to turn Virginia blue that I hadn't really thought about the elections elsewhere. I assumed that Prop 8 was so ridiculous and hateful that a majority wouldn't consider voting for it.
I guess I was wrong.
I've been spending quite a bit of time doing HIV/AIDS outreach in the mean streets of DC for the last two weeks. I'm on the look out for people who are 'at-risk' which is public health speak for people who are most susceptible to HIV infection for whatever reason. These reasons could be: poverty, drug use, alcohol abuse, living on the down low, etc.
I encounter my fair share of shady characters when I'm out in the streets, giving out free condoms and urging people to get tested for HIV. And for some reason, the guys I encounter feel that my outreach efforts are just an opportunity to hit on me.
Here is a sample of what I heard last Friday night:
I'm incredibly proud of being from California, but I feel as though I am constantly bombarded by events/people that bring shame to where I'm from. For example, that horrible show, The Hills (which I must admit to watching religiously). How a couple of talentless hacks can become incredibly rich and popular for doing absolutely nothing is beyond me. And I'm particularly offended by the douchiest douchebag ever, Spencer, who I am ashamed to admit was once a student at my collegiate alma mater.
But on a more serious note, I'm ashamed of things like Ahh-nold Schwarzenegger being elected TWICE. If the first term was a joke, the second term is definitely not funny. AND I'm ashamed of basic programs like Education getting cut so badly that my sister's school is laying off nearly half of its teaching staff so that classes can double in size. No child left behind? Oh, I see lots of kids getting left behind in California.
However, every once in a great while, Cali goes and does something that makes me smile, makes my heart swell, and almost makes me do a celebratory dance. And yesterday, that something was the California Supreme Court's decision that the banning of same-sex marriage is unconstitutional.
In 30 days (a delay due mostly to administrative, red tape stuff), the gays in Cali will be able to get married, a right that some straights take for granted but that most gays have been fighting for and denied in most other states (High five, Massachusetts). And this was my favorite part of the ruling yesterday:
...in contrast to earlier times, our state now recognizes that an individual's capacity to establish a loving and long-term committed relationship with another person and responsibly to care for and raise children does not depend upon the individual's sexual orientation, and, more generally, that an individual's sexual orientation — like a person's race or gender — does not constitute a legitimate basis upon which to deny or withhold legal rights.Wait! So gays are just as human as the rest of us? No effin' way.
When I moved here, my first friends in DC were all gay men. The most welcoming of them are two guys that I affectionately called, The Boys. I met one of them at work. His name was Ryan. And we were both stuck at the Crap. The other Boy was Charles and he was Ryan's partner. They lived together in a cute basement apartment on the Hill. And when I finally found a place to live, I became their neighbor.
Words cannot express how grateful I was to The Boys for taking me under their fashionably designer wings. They showed me the ropes of living in the city, a place I would eventually begin to accept as my home. So when I had no place to go for my first Thanksgiving in DC, I was not surprised that Ryan was nice enough to invite me to spend the holiday with his family near Richmond. I accepted without hesitation. I had no doubt that I would feel comfortable with Ryan's family.
Late Thanksgiving Eve, on the drive down to Colonial Heights, Ryan decided to drop a bombshell. He said, "There's something I should tell you before we get to my mom's house. They don't know I'm gay." Whaaaa? I was confused. This guy wore designer clothing, even if that meant he couldn't pay rent that month. And he had been living with his partner for quite some time. So, I asked, "Why?" Ryan replied, "Well, they're not as accepting down here as they are in DC. And they think Charles is my roommate They might suspect, but they definitely don't know."
At that point, a light bulb went off in my head. "Does your family think that you're bringing home a friend or a girlfriend?" I asked. Ryan answered, "Ummm...I think I said 'friend'." Oh great.
We arrived at his mom's house and were greeted by his cousins--all female. They were incredibly pleasant. We walked into the house and I could smell all of the typical Thanksgiving aromas. I saw all of the food that was on the table and noticed (for the first time ever) that deviled eggs were part of the holiday food offerings. Interesting.
Eventually, I met Ryan's mom. She was a gentle woman, a cancer survivor. And she was incredibly happy to see me. She took a break from cooking just to talk to me and get to know me better. After a long chat in the kitchen, Ryan abandoned me and left me alone with his mom. Ryan's mom took me into another room in the house (a study of some sort) and pulled out a photo album. She began to show me pictures of Ryan as a little boy, pictures of his older sister, and her extended family. I heard tales of their family history. Ryan's mom really wanted to make me feel like part of the family.
I began to feel like a fraud. Like I was the family's last hope that Ryan wasn't gay.
Still, the decision to come out was not mine to make, but Ryan's.
The following year, Ryan's mother became incredibly ill. Her cancer had come back with a vengeance. She eventually passed. Ryan never had the heart to come out to her.
However, Ryan eventually came out to the rest of his family. They've accepted him and his partner with open arms.
Today is National Coming Out Day. Please do consider coming out to those you love and who love you back.
You might be surprised by their capacity to love you just as you are.
I have often wondered about the need to label people. Is it human nature to group people in categories to better understand them? For example, I can be labeled as a Latina, Mexican, Chicana, Mexican American, Hispanic, etc. But none of those labels define me. I am much more than all of those labels suggest.
I didn’t realize this until this weekend, but I had given my hairstylist a label. I labeled him as gay. A lot of my friends can be labeled as such even though I know they are much more than just gay. However, Gary really tested me.
For as long as I’ve known Gary, he’s preferred the company of men. When he first started doing my hair, he was a hardcore party guy, going out every other day, meeting new people left and right. Gary was the life of the party everywhere he went and guys were attracted to him like moths to a flame. Obviously, he relished the attention.
Gary and I have known each other for over 4 years now and he’s grown up a lot in that time. He doesn’t go out nearly as often as before. He saves his money, although he does make the occasional extravagant Prada purchase. But he’s calmed down a lot both personally and romantically. He’s tried to stay away from unhealthy relationships and he is making better choices in his life. I’m proud of him for his turn-around.
I was sitting in his chair while he trimmed my hair this weekend. I had just finished updating him on what was going on in my life. Because I was over talking about my drama, I asked Gary to let me know what was up with him. He said, “I’m dating someone. Someone different.” I asked, “Really? How so?” Gary said, “Well, I’m seeing a girl.” My jaw dropped. Incredulous, I asked, “You are? Seriously?” Gary replied with a chuckle, “Yeah, I am. I’m growing up and looking to settle down. I’m not getting any younger.” Now would be a good time to tell you that Gary is my age. Still shocked, I asked him, “How?” What I really wanted to ask was “How is this possible?” Gary replied, “Well, I knew that she was into me. I’ve known her forever. And the other day, we took it to the next level.” Hmmm…I had trouble processing this information. How could a life-long gay man just flip a switch and not be gay?
After confirming that alcohol had nothing to do with this hook-up, I asked him, “How serious is this?” He answered, “We’re taking it one day at a time.” I still wasn’t getting it but I wanted to understand. So the 20 questions continued. “Ok,” I said, “What if another opportunity presented itself, one that was too good to pass up, would you take it regardless of whether the opportunity is a man or a woman?” Gary replied, “Yup, it doesn’t matter.”
Gary then proceeded to reiterate the sentiment that he is getting older and feels a need to settle down. He wants to get married some day and maybe have children. I started to get the impression that he was with this girl because of these societal pressures, both of which are not easily granted to gay men. Perhaps he wanted to take the easy way out.
Finally, I spoke my mind. I uttered the words that I had been thinking the whole time he was telling me his story. I said, “But you’re gay!” With a maturity that I clearly had not yet attained, Gary answered, “I’m not ‘gay.’ And I’m not ‘straight.’ Why can’t I just be me? I’m just being Gary.”
I sat in his chair and nodded my head. He was right. For some reason, I felt the need to put Gary in a box labeled ‘Gay.’ Gary has the right to be with whomever he wants to be with and I am certainly not in a place to judge. Besides, he’s my friend. I accept him as who he is, whether this is a phase or not.
After a moment of contemplative silence, Gary stopped and looked at me in the mirror intensely. Then he said, “Let’s hope this doesn’t affect the way I do your hair.” We both laughed heartily, dismissing the stereotype that all good stylists are gay.
Mine just is who he is.
