“Mommy, they are just like me.”
My oldest son is six years old and in love for the first time. He is in love with Blaine from Glee.
For those who don’t know Blaine is a boy…a gay boy, the boyfriend of one of the main characters, Kurt.
This isn’t a ‘he thinks Blaine is really cool’ kind of love. It is a mooning at a picture of Blaine’s face for a half hour followed by a wistful “He’s so pretty” kind of love.
He loves the episode where two boys kiss. My son will call people in from other parts of the house to make sure they don’t miss his ‘favorite part.’ He’s been known to rewind it and watch it over again…and force other to, as well, if he doesn’t think people have been paying enough attention.
This infatuation doesn’t bother me or his father. We live in a very hip-liberal neighborhood, many of our friends are gay, and idea of having a gay son isn’t something that bothers either of us. Our son is going to be who he is, and it is our job to love him. End of story.
He is also six. Six year olds get obsessed with all kinds of things. This might not mean anything at all. We always joke that he’s either gay, or we have the best blackmail material in the history of mankind when he’s a 16 year old straight boy. (Take that naked bath time pictures!)
Then the other day we were traveling across the state listening to the Warblers album (of course), and in the middle of Candles, my son pipes up from the back seat.
“Mommy, Kurt and Blaine are boyfriends.”
“Yes, they are,” I affirm.
“They don’t like kissing girls. They just kiss boys.”
“That’s true.”
“Mommy, they are just like me.”
“That’s great, baby. You know I love you no matter what?”
“I know…” I could hear him rolling his eyes at me.
When we got home I recapped this conversation to his Dad, and we stood simply looking into each other’s eyes for a moment. Then we smiled.
“So if at 16 he wants to make a big announcement at the dinner table, we can say ‘You told us when you were six. Pass the carrots’ and he’ll be disappointed we stole his big dramatic moment,” my husband says with a laugh and hugs me.
Only time will tell if my son is gay, but if he is I am glad he’s mine. I am glad he has been born into our family. A family full of people who will love and accept him. People who will never want him to change. With parents who will look forward to dancing at his wedding.
And I have to admit, Blaine would be a really cute son-in-law.
Via amelia blogs. . .
I think it’s Bachmann
I had originally thought that Pawlenty was going to surge. Who knew he was such a poor campaigner? You’re not in Minnesota anymore, Tim.
I still think that Romney has a ceiling and he’s hit it. I am becoming more and more convinced that Michele Bachmann is going to be the Republican Nominee. Look - she wins Iowa and takes second in New Hampshire. If that happens, I think she goes on to win South Carolina and Florida as the single-digit crowd drops out. Say what you will about Romney and his money, but he has less money this time (yeah, he can self fund, but his inability to raise a ton against a president that many Republicans see ans vulnerable is telling), and I don’t think he’s going to suddenly start resonating just because his message is more economically focused this time around (or, I guess, has any focus). Republican primary goers already know who he is, and they’re only supporting him to the tune of 25%. Palin doesn’t run (she’d be dumber than Newt Gingrich to ruin the good thing she’s got going), and when Cain (8%) Pawlenty (5%) Gingrich (5%) Santorum (3%) and Paul (7%) drop out after loosing bad in Iowa, where do they go? Romney?! No way. Unless McCotter catches fire (kidding), they’ll go to the strongest not-Romney in the room. The only thing that stops Bachman for President is Rick Perry. Or, y’ know, that other guy.
Miss America Contestants: Should Evolution Be Taught In Schools? // Love This. The geography of their answers is fabulous.
![tylercoates:
Welp. Here’s this thing:
In Tina Fey’s 30 Rock, which is, in part, a satire about feminism and the American woman (acolytes are called Liz Lemonists), there’s an episode where the show’s assistant questions Fey’s character about whether or not, as a feminist who has everything she ever wanted, she’s actually deeply unhappy? I wonder if the post-mo will suffer a similar fate. Some say all the gays ever wanted were two things: freedom and choice. I have freedom, and I have choices. I’ve never known a life without them. I don’t want to get married, I never have. I don’t want to raise children, I never have. I suffer from online dating fatigue already and haven’t held a guy’s hand in almost three years. I have all the sex I want, in my own apartment or his, but none of it means anything. I have regular HIV tests, because I’m aware of the importance of sexual health, but I’ve still managed to forget the condom once or twice without freaking out. My parents have never actually heard me say the words “I am gay” because I don’t need to and it really doesn’t matter because they love me all the same. I am a writer who happens to be gay, not the other way around. I’m not fighting the good fight. It was never mine to fight. So what about us? Call us what you want—post-mos, faux gays, straight-acting, bitter queens—we’re the lucky ones.
Take what I am about to say with a grain of salt, as I am a 27-year-old living in New York City, but fuck everything that this 24-year-old man in Toronto has to say about the movement of “post-mos,” who are essentially gay millennials with enough privilege to foolishly poo-poo any sort of quest for acceptance and equality. I guess in their minds (if there is much in them at all), these young men are convinced that they are without an agenda, but it is in my experience that anyone who proclaims to be without an agenda has himself a pretty strong agenda. One of these men claims that he doesn’t say he’s gay; he just fucks dudes. Yeah, well, he also wears chambray dress shirts and bow-ties, so consider those two elements for a moment when proclaiming not to have an agenda, my friend.
I don’t want to complain about these guys as “white people” (I’ve always thought it to be a bit tacky to do such a thing, because it’s weirdly racist and totally classist), but what a bunch of selfish white kids who seem to have absolutely no idea what it means to be gay outside of their silly, frivolous little collective in fucking Toronto, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know much about the make-up of their city, but I can tell you from my experience living in Chicago and New York that these men and their notion of being gay (or “being a guy who fucks guys,” whatever) are so infuriatingly stupid and offensive. Tell that to the kids living on the street. Tell that to the adults living on the street. I realize that none of them look like you - they don’t wear designer glasses or manicured beards that purport a single-layered and ridiculous sense of masculinity - so it’s difficult to deign yourself to identify with another “minority within your minority” when your head is shoved up your own selfish ass that appears to be blessedly exempt from the struggles that the rest of us (all of us) have had to face.
A few weeks ago I posted a link to an interview with author and activist Larry Kramer, who said,
I am a gay person before I’m anything else. I’m a gay person before I’m a white person, before I’m a Jew, before I’m a writer, before I’m American, anything. That is my most identifying characteristic and I don’t find many people who would say that. The polls say the same thing: People do not identify themselves as gay. And that’s too bad. In fact, it’s tragic. It will prevent us from ever having what we deserve, I believe.
A friend of mine told me that she found that so disheartening, that one (me) should not have to live life that way. I replied that I agreed with Kramer; what matters most is how one self-identifies, but there will never be a way to avoid being a gay man. That is what society is calling me, and, frankly, that is what I am, because if it shows to someone that I’m just as normal as everyone else, then so be it. But I am just as normal as a man who wears women’s clothes, or a man who dances in his underwear on a parade float in June. There are different ways in which we express our homosexuality, and different ways in which we say to the rest of the world, “This is who we are, deal with it.” It’s pointless to marginalize others from a group that is already so marginalized, and it’s dangerous to claim, as a homosexual, that you don’t want to call yourself “gay.”
I can’t help but think of this speech in Angels in America:
Your problem, Henry, is that you are hung up on words. On labels. “Gay”, “homosexual”, “lesbian”; you think they tell you what a person is, but they don’t tell you that. Like all labels, they refer to one thing and one thing only: Where does a person so identified fit in the food chain? In the pecking order. Not ideology of sexual taste, but something much simpler — clout. Who owes me favors. Not who I fuck or who fucks me, but who will pick up the phone when I call. To someone who doesn’t understand this, homosexual is what I am because I sleep with men, but this is wrong. A homosexual is someone who, in 15 years of trying, can’t get a pissant anti-discrimination bill through City Council. They are men who know nobody, and who nobody knows. Now, Henry, does that sound like me? No. I have clout. Lots. I have sex with men; but, unlike nearly every other man of which this is true, I bring the guy I’m screwing to Washington, and President Reagan smiles at us and shakes his hand.
We are, indeed, hung up on words, and I am baffled at how trite the men featured in this article closely mimic the ideas said by the fictional version of Roy Cohn. Being a homosexual should not be a status symbol. It will always be a defining characteristic, no matter what, because it sets us apart from the straight world. I don’t mean to suggest that there aren’t a lot of different kinds of gay guys, but if we all want the same thing - acceptance, support, the right to get married (even if marriage is not a life goal for all of us) - we must at least unite together in this basic way; otherwise, we’re going to keep setting ourselves back.
[Link via ArchNoble (NSFW)]](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lmknmyDAJ41qz7ztxo1_500.png)
Welp. Here’s this thing:
In Tina Fey’s 30 Rock, which is, in part, a satire about feminism and the American woman (acolytes are called Liz Lemonists), there’s an episode where the show’s assistant questions Fey’s character about whether or not, as a feminist who has everything she ever wanted, she’s actually deeply unhappy? I wonder if the post-mo will suffer a similar fate. Some say all the gays ever wanted were two things: freedom and choice. I have freedom, and I have choices. I’ve never known a life without them. I don’t want to get married, I never have. I don’t want to raise children, I never have. I suffer from online dating fatigue already and haven’t held a guy’s hand in almost three years. I have all the sex I want, in my own apartment or his, but none of it means anything. I have regular HIV tests, because I’m aware of the importance of sexual health, but I’ve still managed to forget the condom once or twice without freaking out. My parents have never actually heard me say the words “I am gay” because I don’t need to and it really doesn’t matter because they love me all the same. I am a writer who happens to be gay, not the other way around. I’m not fighting the good fight. It was never mine to fight. So what about us? Call us what you want—post-mos, faux gays, straight-acting, bitter queens—we’re the lucky ones.
Take what I am about to say with a grain of salt, as I am a 27-year-old living in New York City, but fuck everything that this 24-year-old man in Toronto has to say about the movement of “post-mos,” who are essentially gay millennials with enough privilege to foolishly poo-poo any sort of quest for acceptance and equality. I guess in their minds (if there is much in them at all), these young men are convinced that they are without an agenda, but it is in my experience that anyone who proclaims to be without an agenda has himself a pretty strong agenda. One of these men claims that he doesn’t say he’s gay; he just fucks dudes. Yeah, well, he also wears chambray dress shirts and bow-ties, so consider those two elements for a moment when proclaiming not to have an agenda, my friend.
I don’t want to complain about these guys as “white people” (I’ve always thought it to be a bit tacky to do such a thing, because it’s weirdly racist and totally classist), but what a bunch of selfish white kids who seem to have absolutely no idea what it means to be gay outside of their silly, frivolous little collective in fucking Toronto, for Christ’s sake. I don’t know much about the make-up of their city, but I can tell you from my experience living in Chicago and New York that these men and their notion of being gay (or “being a guy who fucks guys,” whatever) are so infuriatingly stupid and offensive. Tell that to the kids living on the street. Tell that to the adults living on the street. I realize that none of them look like you - they don’t wear designer glasses or manicured beards that purport a single-layered and ridiculous sense of masculinity - so it’s difficult to deign yourself to identify with another “minority within your minority” when your head is shoved up your own selfish ass that appears to be blessedly exempt from the struggles that the rest of us (all of us) have had to face.
A few weeks ago I posted a link to an interview with author and activist Larry Kramer, who said,
I am a gay person before I’m anything else. I’m a gay person before I’m a white person, before I’m a Jew, before I’m a writer, before I’m American, anything. That is my most identifying characteristic and I don’t find many people who would say that. The polls say the same thing: People do not identify themselves as gay. And that’s too bad. In fact, it’s tragic. It will prevent us from ever having what we deserve, I believe.
A friend of mine told me that she found that so disheartening, that one (me) should not have to live life that way. I replied that I agreed with Kramer; what matters most is how one self-identifies, but there will never be a way to avoid being a gay man. That is what society is calling me, and, frankly, that is what I am, because if it shows to someone that I’m just as normal as everyone else, then so be it. But I am just as normal as a man who wears women’s clothes, or a man who dances in his underwear on a parade float in June. There are different ways in which we express our homosexuality, and different ways in which we say to the rest of the world, “This is who we are, deal with it.” It’s pointless to marginalize others from a group that is already so marginalized, and it’s dangerous to claim, as a homosexual, that you don’t want to call yourself “gay.”
I can’t help but think of this speech in Angels in America:
Your problem, Henry, is that you are hung up on words. On labels. “Gay”, “homosexual”, “lesbian”; you think they tell you what a person is, but they don’t tell you that. Like all labels, they refer to one thing and one thing only: Where does a person so identified fit in the food chain? In the pecking order. Not ideology of sexual taste, but something much simpler — clout. Who owes me favors. Not who I fuck or who fucks me, but who will pick up the phone when I call. To someone who doesn’t understand this, homosexual is what I am because I sleep with men, but this is wrong. A homosexual is someone who, in 15 years of trying, can’t get a pissant anti-discrimination bill through City Council. They are men who know nobody, and who nobody knows. Now, Henry, does that sound like me? No. I have clout. Lots. I have sex with men; but, unlike nearly every other man of which this is true, I bring the guy I’m screwing to Washington, and President Reagan smiles at us and shakes his hand.
We are, indeed, hung up on words, and I am baffled at how trite the men featured in this article closely mimic the ideas said by the fictional version of Roy Cohn. Being a homosexual should not be a status symbol. It will always be a defining characteristic, no matter what, because it sets us apart from the straight world. I don’t mean to suggest that there aren’t a lot of different kinds of gay guys, but if we all want the same thing - acceptance, support, the right to get married (even if marriage is not a life goal for all of us) - we must at least unite together in this basic way; otherwise, we’re going to keep setting ourselves back.
[Link via ArchNoble (NSFW)]
Evening Round Up - Trump, Crybabies, and GOProud
Can we stop pretending that Donald Trump is in anyway serious? Please?!
Sometimes Andrew Sullivan really gets it right.
And great catch by Michael Crawford and Joe Gervais: GOProud founder has advocated on both sides of Planned Parenthood, ENDA, and Hate Crimes.
About me
Politics. Food. Gay. Life. Travel. People. All in one place.
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