Hospitality runs in my family

I am staying at Sophie’s house. I like it here.

It’s my second stay in the house inhabited by my sister (on my biological father’s side) and her husband (who is more like a brother than an in-law). And coming back, it is familiar; only last time, Sophie wasn’t here. Same house, same space, only somehow…brighter. And baby toys everywhere. And sweet baby sounds. And daddy playing chase around the coffee table and squeals of joy from baby and laughter from mommy.

There is love in this house. Love for life evident in the companionship of its occupants, in the rich melodies that are playing throughout, in the Armenian and English spoken back and forth by its occupants, even by the three rescue dogs who share the space.

And now evidenced by the delightful evidence of a baby growing up and flourishing in this environment of love and happiness.

The hallmark of this home is hospitality. Here, I am family, as is—I suspect—anyone who visits.

“In the cherry blossom’s shade
there’s no such thing
as a stranger.”
~ Kobayashi Issa

My experience in their home is not unlike my experience visiting the rest of my rapidly expanding family. My brother and his partner make their home in NC immediately warm and inviting just as my sister and her husband in FL do (only theirs has a lot more pink and girl stuff everywhere). Each home has its own unique touches, different deeply stocked pantries, and unique foods. (Coffee, deep and rich, is a commonality they all share.)  In the same context, I remember the times I stayed with and enjoyed the meals, relaxation in the garden of fruit trees, and eclectic collections at Aunt Donna’s and the warm, gentle homey-ness and comforting meals experienced at Aunt Carol’s.

All of them have hosted me and other family members (and significant others upon occasion), feeding us ‘til we could pop and making us instantly—and heretofore—feel like we belonged.

Today (Sunday, January 22) my experience with familial hospitality expanded again as I had the honor to be invited to my brother-in-law’s family for a traditional Armenian dinner. And oh what a treat!

You know that scene in Antoine Fischer, when he comes in at the end to all that family? Well, this wasn’t far from that. Though not blood related to me, his mother, his sister and her husband, an aunt and uncle, a couple who were his parent’s dearest friends, and his mother’s boyfriend were there to greet me and Aunt Donna (biological mother’s sister) with open, welcome arms, broad smiles, and words spoken with a rich Armenian dialect. We walk in and there was wine and crackers and cheeses, nuts, tequila, and vodka (which was pronounced ‘wodka’ which was just so cool). They all listened intently to the amazing story of how we were all connected and ultimately brought together, looked at pictures of my sons, and laughed at the antics of the little sprite who entertained us with her every “drunken” step.

And then this meal (!)… holy moly! His mother prepared a traditional Moroccan feast of couscous she learned to make from her time there that looked like something out of a movie. We ate, and ate…and ate.

What do I remember the most? So many things. Aunt Donna telling the story about her broken toe and the scotch. Henry’s story of proposing to my sister not at the top of the Eiffel Tower and the tale of his sister’s refusal to believe that the dessert presented to her with the words “marry me” was really for her. Agop’s story of getting out of the 90 mph ticket, the tale of New Year’s Eve at the casino, and walking down to the local Armenian grocery/liquor store to buy our lottery tickets for the drawing that would be held in a few hours. [I don't think any of us won.] How the conversation flowed effortlessly between English and Armenian. And then there was dessert! And more shots! In the afternoon! It was greatness!

I won’t soon forget the look of admiration on “Ana-Mom’s” face as she observed her happy family gathered around the table, catching a glance and her genuine smile in my direction seeing me so obviously happy. (I know this look; I’ve seen it on the looks of both aunts’ faces and also on my mother’s face when we were all together before she passed.)

And my very favorite part? The way it seemed every 10 minutes, there was a reason to raise our glasses to toast something or someone and say “Կէնաձդ” (“Genatzt”)!

So much to take in. So much laughter. So much happiness. So much warmth.

Ah how my soul needed this respite.

I’m sure there were family times like this for me growing up though I don’t remember so much openness and joy—except maybe at dear Aunt Nell’s or at her daughters’ homes. I like to think the boys will have memories of many such jovial times around our own table while they were growing up. And of course near in my mind and heart are times like this in the homes of my dearest friends—who have become my family—where (sometimes weekly) we laugh, enjoying wine (or really amazing bottles of champagne) and each other’s company.

I’ve received some nice gifts over the year but I’m certain none of them has been or will be greater than the gift of hospitality I received during my recent trip to Cali…and throughout my life.

Genatzt!

To Friends of Gays Everywhere, It’s Time for Tough Love

I have been holding off on this post, waiting for the right “feeling” to propel me to post it. Today, on the anniversary of Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birth, his impact on not just equal rights for non-whites but also on human rights weighed heavier on my mind that usual. Then this quote convicted me to step bravely forward with this post.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”
~Martin Luther King, Jr.

So, here goes:

Dear Straight Friends of Gays (SFoGs):

It’s 2012, an election year, and the cause for equal rights for gays is advancing. As such, I want to be very clear where I stand with respect to our friendship.

First of all thank you for being our friend, publicly. For many of you, you’ll generously say “no thanks necessary” because that’s just how you are; for others, I understand that it’s been a huge step for you—and I respect that. Attitudes and ideals grow and evolve individually. Not everyone not everyone is at the same place at the same time in their own journey—and that’s OK.

That said—and now I’m speaking generally, not just to my circle of gay-friendly friends—it is time for you reconcile the authenticity of your friendship and—to an extent—your character. You claim to love us and our parties and shop with us and have us into your homes and vice versa.  But I have reached my tipping point and it is finally time for me, personally, to take a stand.

I can no longer call you my friend if you go into hate-filled churches that proclaim God’s love while at the same time demonize gays and espouse hatred.

And I can no longer consider you a true friend if you step into the voting booth in your local precinct on Election Day, close the curtain, and then vote for candidates who are against equal rights for all citizens.

If you do, then you are against me, personally. Not some ethereal bunch of gays, but me, someone you know and profess to love. 

I realize it is a risk to mix friendship with either politics or religion–or both. Yes, we can disagree about political parties and certain ideologies, to an extent, but on these two principles, we can no longer disagree and remain friends.

Since I came out in 2006, I have generally tried to not be overly in peoples’ faces with my “lifestyle” and in particular my politics related to being an out, openly gay man.

[Keyword: overly. My outward identity alone has been just about more that many people can take.]

In all honesty, I don’t suppose any of my coming out has been done…lightly.  But over the past couple of years, I have grown increasingly frustrated by what’s going on in the country today when it comes to equal rights for all citizens of our country and by friendships with people whose love appears suspect.

The civil rights movement and the gay rights movement are essentially motivated by the same principle: discrimination and inequality based on human characteristics cannot be tolerated. And just like I’m stunned that “good, Christian people” could have ever presumed to “own” another human being or regard someone as less than deserving of equality because if the color if their skin, it is beyond my comprehension that people think that homosexuals have less rights than the heterosexual majority.

To this day, I cannot imagine people sitting in churches week after week—people who had slaves or later “employees” who they regarded as less that equal (like those portrayed in the recent motion picture The Help)—while a preacher proclaimed  the great message of Christ’s love and yet possessed such un-Christian ideals. I am stunned by the notion of people treating blacks like they did back then or for being eschewed—even vilified—for standing up for the rights of people of another race.  [Can you imagine someone frowning upon you because you have black friends?!]

And yet here we are some 50 years after the fight for civil rights was won—which took the killing of children in a church for many white Christians to finally become convicted by their own hypocrisy—and people are still sitting in churches that preach hate and resemble the body of Pharisees Jesus decried. And we have a group of citizens who are up in arms about their “religion being under attack” by a president who, while not coming out entirely for gay marriage, does support equal rights under the law for all citizens. In the struggle for civil rights, I don’t know if people voted against JFK more because he was Catholic or because they knew he was a proponent for civil rights for all Americans, but history proves JFK’s election was the right decision. I fully believe history will bear out the same verdict for Barack Obama.

Politics is largely a matter of heart.
~R. A. Butler

I understand that many people are voting in the upcoming election based on the economy. We can argue all day about on whose watch this started and about which party has failed to fix it, never arriving at a consensus. But here’s one thing I [actually] agree with the evangelical right on:

This election is about social issues.

It’s time to really understand what the separation of church and state means. The economy will recover—regardless of what party is in control of whatever branch (see also big business, lobbyists) and, as history shows, it will get messed up again. But if you vote for candidates who are against equal rights for all people (this is not a blanket anti-republican statement), I am calling your friendship into question. You simply cannot be friends with someone who you think is less deserving of the same rights that you yourself have.

Moreover, I cannot be friends with you.

Americans cannot allow a party overrun with hate-filled, hypocrites on the wrong side of history to take control and undo the progress that’s occurred in the past couple years–despite setbacks and efforts to the contrary. (Thanks Mormon church, et al.) Last election, enough of us finally got behind and elected a man in spite of his color—a man who inspires that we’re all of us equal, regardless of our color, income level, or sexual identity. A stance against gay rights is no different than the sinful, offensive belief that whites were superior than blacks.

For my friends who are Christians but are having trouble reconciling your love for your gay friends with religious dogma over homosexuality, I would encourage you to study that scripture every day—particularly the words of the Christ you follow—and to bear in mind this encouragement:

“To be a Christian is to live dangerously, honestly, freely—to step in the name of love as if you may land on nothing, yet to keep on stepping because the something that sustains you no empire can give you and no empire can take away.”
~ Cornel West

Each one of us needs to err on the side of love not hate. With your witness and your vote—I believe these are precisely the same thing—you have the chance to model authentic love and equality. I’m not asking you to start going to Gay Pride parades but by loving gays and supporting their claim to equal rights, not only do you have access to outstanding styling tips and fabulous parties, you demonstrate true friendship.

In conclusion—and I say this with respect—you can’t have it both ways: claiming to be friends with gays but then supporting beliefs, ideals, and candidates that deny equal rights for us.

Otherwise, we must part ways.

Sincerely

Todd Whitley

And PS: if you are gay and vote Republican, then we seriously need to talk. There’s a whole other post coming for you.

PPS: Does this make me an activist now?

connecting the dots

(yes, another post today. here’s the first one: shameless self-promotion)

tonight during the course of a conversation about the future with one of my three awesome brothers-in-law, i was directed to Steve Jobs’ 2005 commencement speech at Stanford.

such wise words from someone gone too soon; each one of his three life stories hits me right square in the jaw.

for my entire life, the crazy path i’ve been on has made no sense whatsoever.

given up at birth, adopted, taken, given back, given to someone else (thankfully), bullied, abused, falling in love with a woman the first time, married, becoming a father, abandoned, falling in love with a man the first time, losing him, finding her, gaining them, hurting–but never losing–her, pursuing and finding a new love, reconciling with my mother and reuniting with my baby brother, losing our mom, being hurt by the one i loved, abandoned again, finding more siblings….

often i could never see or hope in what would lie ahead. but looking backward on my life, as he suggests, it does seem that the dots are in fact connecting. it’s starting to make sense…and it’s an incredible experience to watch it happen.

his comment about finding (again) what i love….

“the only way you will be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. and the only way to do great work is to love what you do.”

without going into detail, my goodness how this speaks to exactly where i am in my life, as does his third point:

don’t waste it [time you're given] living someone else’s life….don’t be trapped by dogma–the results of other people’s thinking…don’t let the noise of others opinions drown out your voice”

find what i love. no dogma. no haters.

my voice.

thanks steve. #RIP

shameless self-promotion

if you’re here now reading this because you think this is that bold, controversial post i’ve been talking about, well, you’re going to be disappointed.

this post is just about something that occurred to me and if i don’t share it now, it’ll become yet another one of those blog drafts (i have like 27) that i never get around to perfecting and then never post.

as i was talking to a new friend about wanting to post the hilarious and absolutely clever texts i’d sent him that he liked, it occurred to me that wow…i sure do love to talk about myself.

and then it made me wonder… geeze… am i really so shallow? is my self-esteem so low that i must constantly talk about what i like, talk about people i like, over-share every facet of my life, post every funny thing that occurs to me, be a member of every single social networking tool i can (except foursquare which i think is a total waste of time), be so consumed by posting my likes on pinterest that i could spend hours and hours if i had the time pinning things, and wish i could keep up with all of my friends FB pages and tweets…and on and on.

but…my life is funny, right? people want to know what i have to say because i’m interesting, yeah? or is it that i’m really so fcuked up so it makes them feel better about their own lives? i dunno.

i feel like a lot of my “virtual self-expression(TM)” is a way to live my life and share my metamorphosis beyond the “local” barriers that don’t constrain me in a virtual world. i wonder if i’m rather like a baby who’s discovered his voice and babbles on and on, amused at the sound of his own voice. or if i’m like that obnoxious teenager who’s gaining awareness of his power and hunger for liberty that he says what’s on his mind, screw the world. or that dumb guy everyone pities because he says whatever comes to his mind however unfunny or inappropriate. or that guy who’s felt beaten down his whole life and is finally pissed off enough to finally start talking about it.

or maybe a combination of all of the above.

maybe it indicates that my self-esteem is actually in check and that i express myself online in much the same way i do in what i wear, how i wear my hair, and even how i dance.

ok not how i dance.

but my point is …

this.is.me.

this is my life and as much as it challenges me and frustrates me and maddens me and depresses me, it’s still pretty freakin awesome. i’m sitting here smiling at this 76-message thread on facebook with these just DELIGHTFUL women…watching one of my sons text his GF…and in this this chat with this guy who’s makin me smile…and following up on a twitter conversation i had with a bunch of guys this afternoon about something that simultaneously embarassed and tantalized me…reflecting on recent yahoo chats with a sister and a brother who uplifted me…and oh yeah a just-now twitter DM from a dude i’m really feelin’….and OMG have you seen my pinterest???

so…sure. i’m all about the shameless self-promotion.

and i’m proud of it.

 

(note: i just wrote this and immediately hit publish, raw and unedited…to prove that i could actually do it haha)

 

in a funk (or is this what relaxing looks like?)

since the new year ticked midnight, i’ve done absolutely nothing.

i visited my mother a couple times. made some food. i think i showered.
watched a couple movies. couple bowl games.
swept the floors. did some laundry.
oh and i updated the graphics and changed the theme of my blog.

but yeah, basically nothing. haven’t even social networked much.

(no, wait. i haven’t showered.)

tomorrow starts the new work week and there’s a game tomorrow night. so there’s that.

i gotta get out of this funk.

(and i gotta take a shower.)

previous blog: it has to get better

It has to get better

(click to play the accompaniment track for this post.)

2011 will go down as one of my least favorite years.

ever.

for so many reasons (i won’t bring you down with the specifics), i found myself at times wondering:

can it get worse???

The answer is always equivocally “yes, it can get worse.”

though i can’t imagine how but not wanting to tempt fate further, i will remember that i have

• my health
• an incredible family consisting of 4 amazing sons, our family’s matriarch, a couple of soul-mate friends, and a batch of siblings and aunts who comprise the family i’d grown up always wishing for
• a handful of true friends who continue to stick by me through thin and thinner.
• a job.
• and lest i forget, the realization that many have it worse than i.

i believe life ebbs and flows and that valleys are bound to be encountered when experiencing the varied and difficult terrain of life. being a man of a certain age, i also know that the transition of one year into another will not miraculously reverse the trend of this downward spiral. and i know there can be beauty in and growth experienced from the dark, low places, for it’s far more difficult—but not impossible—to shine down here than when riding the crest of a wave in the happiness of the sun.

as i write this, i already know that 2012 is going to bring significantly more change in my life. some of these changes have been inevitable and some have been my keen focus since august 2010. many of these changes will create sadness or at the very least, melancholy. i’m certain there will be changes i have not even anticipated that will bring sorrow. yet i cling to the belief that the change i desire will also bring much needed renewal, happiness, and peace.

ergo, on the eve of 2012, i close my eyes (literally—thank goodness for nimble fingers and intact non-declarative memory) and dig deeply into my heart and soul, searching for the thoughts and dreams that i know will bring me some amount of solace and recovery.

if my life thusfar proves anything, i will survive—evolve, even—just like i always have. i will hang on and make the best of things—some days because i have absolutely no choice. the will to survive both the circumstances i create and the ones life randomly delivers will propel me onto better days.

i will hold myself accountable for accomplishing the changes i desire to make with my life and for becoming the better man i have the capacity to be.

with purpose, i will remain ever-thankful for the relationships i have with the people i love.

without regret, i will let go of relationships i’ve found myself longing for or fighting to keep that bring me no value.

i will remember that a positive outlook is the only true way to attract positive people into my life.

i will make the most of perceived loneliness and isolation to create an environment where achieving my desired outcome is more likely.

in the wake of fear, i will truthfully and bravely continue to share my story for reasons i may never understand and for purposes i already do.

i will continue to stand and fight, ever more diligently, to make my voice heard and use it to shed light on the shameful ugliness of hate.

i will look in the mirror, past the wrinkles, and doubt, and grey, and ghosts trying to convince me i’m worthless and defiantly march forward into 2012 and the remaining years i’m given, embracing my purpose, willfully creating the change i so desire, and ensuring that it will—without a doubt—get better.

previous post: old men in a dairy queen

old men in a dairy queen

i’m sitting here…

blogging….

in a dairy queen…

because they have free wireless.

as you have likely gathered by now, i’m in a rural texas town.  i’m wasting time between the son’s games trying to get some work done…and maybe also doing a bit of social networking too.

to earn the network key to the dairy queen wireless (which is “blizzard” in case you’re ever in bridgeport, tx), i had to order food—which i was more than glad to do: chicken strips basket and gravy…mmmmmm comfort food. (i hope they come over here in two hours and demand that i order a blizzard!)

as i sit here at my laptop, headphones in trying to drown out jerry springer, anticipating that gravy, i observe  the locals, particularly the group of old men in overalls with their coffee cups. they appear to be assembled in a daily ritual to mark the passing of time, comment on current events, and—about ever other minute—laugh at something someone’s said.

i realize that these men, all of them 70+, have found and are maintaining the same thing: connection—no different than what I (and many like me) attempt through social networking, email, and meetups at coffee shops and bars.

as i sit here and watch these men, i can’t help but wonder what my life will look like when (if) i reach that age.

will i be gathered with a group of friends in a place like this? will i even have a group of friends?

will we even gather in person or will we frequent cobwebbed corners of coffee shops offering wireless access, using whatever whatever modern social networking portal of the day on our antiquated laptops in our quest for connection?

will my children and their families remember me at this age or will my life consist of loneliness and isolation, the only respite being the connections i make in a place that smells of fried food and cheap coffee?

and perhaps the most pressing question of all: what funny clothes will i be wearing and will i still attempting to wear some funky hairstyle?

as i’m jarred out of these thoughts by the entrance of a group of loud college-aged boys—who incidentally have come to this spot in their own pursuit of connection—i am struck that the life of the future me will be no different from the one of today.

the connection i have in my life, regardless of my age, is merely the connection i purposefully create and pursue.

if i want friends, i will behave in such a way as to keep them.

if i want to maintain a close relationship with my children and their families, i will earn it.

and if i want to go to the dairy queen or starbucks to hit the wireless, i will bribe some orderly to let me sneak out of the home and drive me there.

but i will not be wearing overalls, i can tell ya that.

the new activism

Previous blog: Pride

Earlier this week, I ran across an op-ed by Jonathan Capehart on his Washington Post political blog (thanks @EqualityTexas) where he made a very interesting point about activism.

Move over, glitter bombs.The gays have found a new — and I would say more effective — way to make their point. They’re just being themselves.

The author’s theory is that gays’ best offense (and perhaps, defense) is to just live out our ordinary lives.

How novel.

This isn’t the first time I’ve ever heard of living one’s life as a form of activism but it’s really just occuring to me that this is precisely what I’ve been doing for over 5 years.

About 2 years ago, I met a passel of activists—Adam Taylor, Phil Reese, and Michael Crawford, director of online programs at Freedom to Marry (also here)—who were in Dallas for an LGBT leadership conference. These men were not only out, but they were making it their vocation in life to lobby for and secure equal rights for all of us! Oh, how they inspired me!

Toward the end of our meal, Phil leaned over and told me:

We don’t really need more activists. People generally hate us. What we need is more people like you, living in ordinary America, just living your life, showing people that we’re no different than anyone else.

Up until that moment, I had somewhat trivialized—and increasingly loathed—my place in rural, conservative Texas. True, my coming out here was pretty high profile, having been very involved in my community, the schools, and a local church all my life, and divorcing a very good woman, “breaking up a family.” And, going for broke, I also engaged in a very visible interracial relationship, later followed by another. (I will never forget all the many gawkers at Kroger for the duration of my relationships.)

The urban gay friends I had thought it was silly to live in such a small (backwards) town and one aunt even openly feared for my safety here.  Yet I never considered leaving; I wanted the boys to be able to continue in the same school they’d always gone to with their friends. My job was close. And my aging mother lives here. I thought, “if my kids could stick it out then so can I.”

So I got used to both the stares and the quick-lookaways from people who didn’t want to talk to me/us. I got used to the isolation—particularly in the months after I came out and again now that I’m single. And I just … live my life pretty much like anyone else. (Only with more fabulousness.)

After reading Capehart’s hypothesis Thursday morning on the way to work (prompting me to write much of this blog via my dictation app), I realized that I have been doing exactly what he and my activist friends.

I am relieved that many women and men in my community have not felt this way, welcoming me with encouragement (one not-related-to-my-church woman stopped me at Chili’s not long after I came out and told me to not duck my head when I met others’s glance, but to hold my head up high because I was a beautiful person) and open arms back into the world of parent volunteering and community life.

Despite being an openly gay male, I am allowed to remain a very active parent volunteer…

[the reason I say “allowed” is because sadly, people still ignorantly equate homosexuality with pedophilia. Even my old church---who had loved and supported me for over 2 decades---told the youth group parents upon my coming out, “he was not left alone with your children…and he’s always welcome back here if he repents but he won’t be allowed to work with the youth.”  The school system never once openly engaged in such a witch hunt.]

…and am involved in three parent organizations, one of which I am the president of.  I helped chaperone a group of 100 students on a trip to New York last year. I am a chief supporter of my son’s athletic team, lending my creativity and voice to the effort. And whether single or partnered, I have continued to shop at all the local stores, attend local sporting and community events, and dine in local restaurants–all as my status updates and check-ins so indicate.

I don’t carry a purse. (It’s called a murse or a man-bag.) Don’t wave my rainbow flag around town (though my holiday US flags always have a rainbow ribbon tied at the top). And I don’t stand on a street corner protesting with dramatic antics and megaphones.

(Though I have been tempted to stand on the square with this one:

Don’t get me wrong: I respect and value the work of all the activists, past and present, who have spoken up and taken a stand on behalf of equal rights for all—whether it be to end slavery, grant women voting rights, secure equal rights for people of all races, provide equal access to handicapped individuals, and acquire civil rights for all humans regardless of sexual preference. These men and women with their signs and strong voices and refusal to  back down despite threats against them and jail time have brought awareness to the movement, attention to the persecution and inequity, and have bravely refused to be quiet.

But as I reflect on my “ordinary life,” I believe it has, if anything, eliminated one of the most prevalent causes of hate:

Ignorance.

Homosexuality is not a choice but hate is. People aren’t born to hate; it is something they are taught. And fear breeds hate. I think many people don’t support equal civil rights (much as they did in the 60s), hiding behind the veil of religion because it makes their hate seem somehow like a holy war.

Until at least a couple years after I decided of my own volition to come out, I had never heard of Harvey Milk, or his call to action to a generation of gays, spoken when I was just 10 years old:

“I cannot prevent anyone from getting angry, or mad, or frustrated. I can only hope that they’ll turn that anger and frustration and madness into something positive, so that two, three, four, five hundred will step forward, so the gay doctors will come out, the gay lawyers, the gay judges, gay bankers, gay architects … I hope that every professional gay will say ‘enough’, come forward and tell everybody, wear a sign, let the world know. Maybe that will help.”

I can say because I came out, there are some people who now know “a gay” and may have actually have changed their viewpoint about gays simply because now they know someone who is just an ordinary person like them (possibly with better hair haha) and find it hard to discriminate or even remember the reason they discriminated in the first place.

They have seen a gay shop, be involved in school programs, and cheer for their children at sporting events. They have seen an openly gay couple with children out in public, behaving just as any other family. They have seen a gay couple on a date, shop in the grocery store, attend sporting events to support their family, and probably also seen brief exchanges of affection—just like they might see from a heterosexual couple.

Now I don’t doubt that many people here still hate me for what I am and/or for disarming them and their hate-filled cause and religious hypocrisy. I know there are many who harbor resentment for the fallout associated with my coming out.  And I still see looks of “faggot” in people’s eyes. But whom I sleep with is largely irrelevant to my place as an equal citizen of this country and member of this human race.

[Remember, heterosexuals, cheating on your wives and treating them disrespectfully is talked about much more frequently in your Bible than homosexuality. Need a forklift for that plank?!]

But I hope because of my activism,

• Someone, somewhere will be compassionate when a son or daughter comes out.
• A teenager will take a stand against someone bullying someone.
• A Christian will use his/her heart and vote for leaders who will work toward ending hate and inequality.

And I hope that just as Christ-believing people are moving away from churches with exclusive and narrow-minded doctrines into open and accepting church communities, that they will also abandon political parties that do not support equal rights for all citizens and no longer support candidates (like Texas governor Rick Perry) who try to get elected by whipping up fear and bullying minorities.

That said, I’m finding it harder to stay quiet and to openly confront someone who whispers behind my back “he’s rubbing his lifestyle in our faces.” Anyone who knows me knows I’m not at all shy about my beliefs. I’ve increasingly started calling some of my friends to task—much to their discomfort, for sure—for being friends with gays but not supporting candidates who support us. I realize politics and friendships are strained bedfellows at best, but I simply cannot let such contradictions go unchecked. I have full confidence that these friends will still extend a glass of wine with me even if we may have to make a truce to avoid certain conversations.

So, I agree: “living an ordinary life” may well be the new activism.

…living our lives right here among everyone, as we are granted the right to do by our country’s constitution…
…going to the polls…
…refusing to accept demonization by religious zealots.

Continuing to live as if we’re equal—even though the majority don’t see it that way—may be the lynch pin in this fight to be regarded as equals by the laws of this country.

 

And besides, count me out for the glitter bombs; that stuff is impossible to get rid of.

pride

Previous post: Open Letter to Rick Perry

the younger son’s home from tonight’s road game.  we just finished the game experience recap.

(and also details about the importance of avoiding “bun oil” at whataburger, but i digress.)

what an exciting game—almost coming from behind to win, thanks in large part to his excellent effort toward the end of the 4th quarter.

some of you know what’s occurred lately and those who don’t: suffice it to say it’s been a rough few games for him. my heart has been heavy knowing the life lesson he’s experiencing, trying to encourage him, and yet give him ownership of the situation. he’s handled it as best he could—much better than I would have, that’s for sure.

anyway, the end of the conversation focused on how the freshman gunning for his position was pretty down about a disappointing end-of-game turnover and how he [instinctively?] “took him under his wing” to try and console him. as he told me what he said to him to encourage him, i could hear my own words (and the words of others who have mentored him through the years) coming out of his mouth. at one point, he put his arm around him and told him not to let what happened get to him, using his own current experience as a reference point. he even sat with him on the bus on the way home and added “we were cracking up with ‘little J’ (a JV player) before we got to benbrook to eat.”

i thought to myself, “that can’t have been easy,” consoling the kid who would ruin his much-hoped for senior season; but i realized that’s because i am seeing it through my eyes. i’m quite certain these words and actions came quite easily and naturally for him.

i’m proud of him and all my sons for so many reasons. however, stories like this about them illustrate precisely what amazing young men they are. it’s this kind of leadership, this type of character that make me most proud.

we lost the game tonight, but without a doubt, he is a winner in my book—for so many reasons.

and so of course: i had to share.

more about my sons: here and here.

Open Response to Rick Perry

Governor Perry

Since announcing your bid for the Republican presidential nomination, your antics have already almost pushed me over the edge. You have long-since made me regret my voting for you the first go-round (before seeing the light) and multiple times have embarrassed me in ways surely residents of Alaska must have been by their then-governor Sarah Palin.

But the video you published this week crosses the line. I am not only embarrassed that you are our state’s top elected official, I am ashamed of—and for—you.

It’s so apparent that you are making a completely unveiled attempt to pander to religious conservatives with this babble about “Obama’s religious war.” Yes, there are people across the nation—and unfortunately many of them here in the South—who will identify with your narrow-minded and hateful ideologies. But you, Mr. Governor do not represent all Texans and certainly could in no way ever assume a position where you lead on behalf of an entire nation.

Your comments are hateful and full of fear. They are misinformed with respect to the ideals our country was shaped by and founded upon. And they place you absolutely on the wrong side of history—the same whitewashed tomb of people who opposed women’s rights, civil rights for people of all races, and rights for the handicapped.

So here is what I say to you, oh woefully out-of-touch public servant to the people of Texas:

I’ve been a Christian my entire life and I believe in essentially the same creator, center of the Universe, life-giver, omniscient, all-loving being you claim to believe in—the very same Essence that millions of human beings believe in across the world. Although I no longer occupy a pew within a specific religious body, I respect your right to do so. So go ahead on into your house of worship and occupy your pew. Worship the way you want to worship, say what you want to say, follow whatever rules they ascribe, judge those within your body, and exclude whomever you want to exclude. I will not judge you.

I would appreciate it, however, if you would behave in kind and refrain from bringing your hateful judgment to me or to any of my fellow human beings and their families. Keep it there, inside your religion; it is not welcome in my house, my state, my nation.

Remember the lines drawn between church and state are there for a reason. Our country was founded on the pursuit of liberty and the desire for religious freedom—not on narrow-minded ideologies that discriminate against a minority. These people did not want to come to the New World to impose their religion on others but rather to worship the God they wanted to worship. Period, end of story. Though it’s true that many of our founding fathers were chauvinists and slave owners, I believe many of them had a seed of foresight to believe that the statement “all men are created equal” applied (or would apply) to both genders, all races, and eventually people of differing sexual orientations.

Our respectable president Barack Obama—who leads in a way you apparently will never be able—did not start a religious war. Prayer in school has been an issue of contention since I was a child and I know of no one who cannot celebrate the joys of the Christmas season. And gays serving in the military have nothing to do with an attack on your religion. What a foolish comparison; high school students come up with more reasonable—and creative—theses than that.

“Gays in the military” no more impedes your right to worship than women being allowed to vote or the way allowing a black man to drink from the same water fountain as someone of your race did—yet religious people somehow once supported such absurd and un-Godly beliefs. People who dare breath such views today are frowned upon, eschewed, and shushed. At least generally, they have the sense to keep those thoughts to themselves. And how dare you speak against the brave men and women of our armed forces just because they identify as gay or lesbian!

You, sir, are not the only one who wears the name Christian. I know many such people who are heterosexual and accept their gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. And I know many homosexual Christians who sit in pews, and worship Jehovah, and obey the two greatest commandments: loving God with all their hearts, minds, souls and strength and loving their neighbors as they love themselves. [You would be a wise student to note that it does not say “love only your heterosexual neighbors.”]

Are you, Mr. Perry, doing that? It seems to me, every time you open your mouth and say something hateful, you diminish the very witness of the Christ you claim to follow. Your unkind words belie any love that your namesake should evoke.

We don’t need you to save us. Nor do we need your judgments or your pronouncement of some ridiculous war made up to get yourself attention within a small group of narrow-minded, religious people like yourself. We are not trying to destroy your religion or asking for admission into your religious sects; further, we are not asking your leaders to perform our marriages.

We demand, however, that you respect us and our families. The United States of America is not just the home of Republican, Christian heterosexuals; it is our home too and at home, we are created equally—every last one of us.

Please, sir, do not attempt to force your religious beliefs on my humanity. As a homosexual, I am no less deserving of rights than any heterosexual. You are my governor, not my judge.

Fear-mongering public servants like you will become relics that students of government and politics will study as examples of narrowmindness and shameful behavior. When they examine the great women and men of politics, you will be absent from among them; I rather think you will be in the category of those rued and pitied—George Wallace will keep you company there.

Rick Perry, you should be ashamed of your ridiculous video. You should immediately apologize and reconsider whether running for the office of President of the United States is something you’re cut out for.

By your words and your actions—embarrassing gaffes and soundbites nothwithstanding—you continue to prove you are not the man for the job.

Respectfully

Todd Whitley