Saber dos casos de extrema discriminação, como os crimes de ódio, em especial contra travestis, ou casais gays que se atrevem a demonstrar afeto em público me choca profundamente.

Meu companheiro diz que eu vivo “no Mundo de Bob”, tal é minha ingênua percepção de muitas coisas no dia-a-dia.

Na verdade eu sempre me levei muito a sério. Por esta razão sempre fui sincero comigo e com todos. Minha vida sempre foi levada com tanta naturalidade que nunca vi ninguém chocado pelo que já fiz. Fosse andar de mãos dadas, ou beijar meu companheiro em público. (Até hoje ele fala que os colegas de trabalho comentam... Oh Pai!). Minha naturalidade perante meus desejos e minha vida também significou o fato de que todos os meus namorados foram conhecidos de toda família e muitos continuam amigos de todos, menos meus...

Ok, nem sempre o fim é fácil... Mas para mim o fim é o fim e não adianta “repaginar”, “re-estilizar”, “reinventar”. O que passou, passou. Para mim, quando acaba, é como algo que quebra, e não consigo consertar. Não tenho mais energia. Sempre, durante todos os meus relacionamentos, tentei “repaginá-los”, “re-estilizá-los”, “reinventá-los” enquanto havia sentimento. Depois que o sentimento se vai, não consigo mais continuar vivendo esta vida.

Acho que meu problema é que quero muito da vida! Não aceito apenas a contabilidade dos ganhos secundários. Eu quero os primários! Todos! Sempre!

Aqua Girl 08 - Aqualicious Pool Party at the Surfcomber Resort.

I think this is the best party I have seen yet in Miami. Could have used a few guys, but whatever. heh heh

Seriously though, the pool at the Surfcomber was PACKED. I would guess there was easily three times as many people there for Aqua Girl than there was for WMC. I was in awe. Amazing turnout. I wish I was a lesbian because there were some of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Wow.

My one and only gripe: no shade. Anywhere. For WMC there were lots of places to get out of the sun and cool off a bit. For Aqua Girl the weather was much hotter but there wasn't any place to escape. I didn't last barely 30 minutes before I had to call it a day because I was so over heated. And you know you don't fuck around with our sun when your body says it's time for a break.

Keep in mind i am the one who likes being hot. I am the one who doesn't use A.C. in her apartment because even the lowest setting is too cold for me. And I couldn't take the heat. If there was shaded areas I could have kept working but there was nothing.

I am so disappointed because this was such an awesome fucking party. I could have spend hours working it and still not covered half of the people there.

Boo hiss! :-(

My only consolation is that there were hella lotta other photographers there so hopefully everyone got as many pictures as they like.

When the link is ready at Napkin Nights I will update this post. Then you will be able to view the pics bigga.
Until then, enjoy the little view...

Now on its fifth year, Aqua Girl is the largest benefit women’s week in the United States. 100% of the proceeds raised during the week go directly back into the community.

Aqua Girl 08 is produced by Aqua Foundation for Women. The Aqua Foundation for Women was created to promote the strength, health, equality and visibility of South Florida’s lesbian, bisexual, transgender and questioning (LBTQ) women.

...

Beni Dakar from The Black American Discussion sent me this editorial regarding the California Supreme Court's ruling Thursday that same-sex couples have a constitutional right to marry.

When gays and lesbians are denied legal marriage, they are also denied other rights that most of us take for granted - such as the right to transfer and inherit wealth from and to our spouse, make medical decisions for our spouse, and an array of rights concerning child welfare. Same-sex marriage is more than a matter of love, but it is about all adults having the same opportunity for economic and social security; regardless of their sexual orientation.(full article here)

...

Here is the New York Times article about the ruling: California Court Affirms Right To Gay Marriage

...

Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger had this to say about the ruling.

"I respect the Court's decision and as Governor, I will uphold its ruling. Also, as I have said in the past, I will not support an amendment to the constitution that would overturn this state Supreme Court ruling."

Rob, his wonderful eyes, his perfect body (the legs :p:p:p)

Sorry I dribble ^^  Could you resist ???

credits: Dylan Rosser

www.themaleform.co.uk

www.dylanrosser.com

It has been a crazy last couple of weeks.  A good kind of crazy but crazy nethertheless.  One of the things about my job as a videographer that I like is that we are fortunate to get a variety of video assignments.  I am not just a corporate videographer or a pagent videographer or a wedding videographer - I have gotten to do a variety of things over the last few years that keep this job interesting.

So in the last two weeks I have filmed two weddings - one a rich Swede was marrying this beautiful arabic girl (you should have seen the reception) and the other a jewish wedding where they were celebrating Jerusalem Independence day after the wedding (boy was I out of place the only black guy in the whole place).  Then I was filming the MCC Church People of African Decent conference celebrating having an includive church for all races (3 days of conference meetings and worship services) and finally the 2008 Miss Duval Plus pageant. CRAZY....and on top of that we have relaunched the Planet Q TV website (our own video sharing website) and now I must move over 400 videos to the new server!!!

So you can wonder why I have not been on the blogs lately - I just haven't had the time.  But I get to come up for air this week - I have bout 70% of all of this done so life gets to be a little easier this week hopefully!!

The podcast network is updated for this week - Pageant Soup Podcast Show (which will be taking a two week break after today), gay news week in review, queer history facts and house music from New York DJ Carlos Dali.  You can subscribe to the podcast network via iTunes and have the shows downloaded to you automatically or just head to our home page and click on the green button that says listen now. Also make sure you check out Planet Q TV - we will be up to about 200 videos moved over by today with more coming soon. DON'T FORGET - JOIN THE COMMUNITY, PUT IN YOUR PROFILE & UPLOAD YOUR VIDEOS TO OUR ALL GAY VIDEO SHARING WEBSITE.

until the next time....

Thomas

I was silently taught early on that masturbation was nasty.  Only bad girls did that and it was unacceptable.  As children we all are curious and especially about our bodies.  Even with siblings of the opposite sex, I was never really sure what all the differences were.  I did however know the basics of (heterosexual) sex but it wasn't enough to satisfy my curiosity.  I'm not sure what, if anything, perked my interest/curiosity in sex but it was prominent around 10 years of age.  I wasn't sure why but I knew I wanted to kiss.  Why did I want to kiss that girl though?

At one time I was almost totally consumed with thoughts of sex.  As an adult, I know that my puberty could have been a much smoother transition if the adults in my life would have been more open about the taboo topic of sex.  My only outlet was self examination and I related to myself as often as I could.  Believe me, it wasn't that often considering I was one of four (sometimes five) children in my home.  I shared a room with my sister until I was 12 and even a bed until I was 9.  My relations were limited to bath-time only.  I wasn't sure what I was looking for exactly but I knew it had to something explosive!  Needless to say, I never found the fireworks I was looking for - not then.

My first sexual experience was void of fireworks also.  I silently accepted that sex just wasn't what it was cracked up to be.  I was 14 at the time.  It wasn't until a few years later that I was introduced to oral sex and the experience still left me feeling jilted.  I again silently shrugged and just accepted.  I was 17 at the time.

I experienced an orgasm at 18.  I thought I had finally found it the explosion I had been in search of since I was 10 years old!!  When the feeling passed after a few seconds, I was disappointed.  I then mastered the skill of masturbation.  I could have this feeling anytime with nothing but my hand?  There were days I could barely make it until the final bell of high school - running home to masturbate.  I wanted to live forever in that moment of orgasm because I felt empty after it passed.  I thought my life would somehow be different after such an experience.  There surely had to be some lasting affects.  I was supposed to be satisfied now, right?  Wrong.  I still felt empty; full of longing.  Something was still missing.

When I married while in my twenties, I was accustomed to sex not being all that.  It was just a physical expression of an emotion felt; no passion or anything  like I'd seen on television, movies, etc.  So, the fact that my married sex life left a lot to be desired was of no real consequence to me.  It was just an act.  A little cunnilingus, penetration - the end.  I watched talk shows and read books on how to keep my married sex life spicy and I tried.  I tried to duplicate the passion I seen acted out on television - it was like being in a play.  I felt so passionless.  I just accepted that this is the way it was to be sexually.  There's nothing more to it.  Whatever that hole was, it was just something "wrong" with me and I ignored it.

I had thoughts of kissing and touching other women from very early on.  I ignored those thoughts because I knew it wasn't "normal".  Something was wrong with that.  I was supposed to have a boyfriend.  I heard the adults talk about a close family member frequently; he was a faggot - or so they said.  That meant he liked other boys.  They kicked him out of the house and our lives for that.  It had to be something very wrong with it, right?  But my thoughts of other women persisted and was a constant through the years.  They always turned me on and so those were the thoughts I dwelt on while having sex in order to stay interested and not just lay there and roll my eyes in the dark.

Once my marriage ended I finally decided to act on my thoughts.  I was just looking for one girl to experiment with - cure my illness.  Once I do that, no more thoughts.

I found her.  Met her on a chatline, talked for weeks before meeting.  We set up a date and I told her that when the evening ended, I'd be going home with her for the night.  We both knew what that meant.  I actually followed through but I must admit the drinks gave me a little courage to do that.

The next morning I awoke and I knew.  This was it.  This was the hole I had been trying to fill my entire life.  I will admit the sex wasn't that grand but I knew that this was what I had been looking for.  This connection, this touch, this passion.  What was supposed to be one night turned into 18 months of a relationship.  My divorce finalized during this relationship and once that relationship ended, my lifestyle, my identity stayed with me.  I was free and there was no turning back.  That was 10 years ago.

I am a Lesbian.

Coming out of the closet or whatever was nothing to me.  I know that I'm blessed though.  My family accepts and has never given me any negativity because of it.  It was just another bend in my life and they met my girlfriend(s) just as they met my previous boyfriends.  It's nothing to them.  No shock.  Nothing.  My (married with 4 kids)  sister even began hanging out with me at the gay clubs.

Don't get me wrong, this lifestyle isn't void of it's own dating and sexual ups and downs.  Some relationships are great, others not so much but I am still free.  I'm no longer searching - at least not sexually.

As I was looking at all of the items on a website called JustMensRings.com, one thing really caught my eye. Literally! The item was the "High Polish Wedding Ring Band."

I like two things about this ring.

First, the price! The ring looks pretty expensive but looks can be deceiving. The retail price for this ring is only $22.00! Cool beans!

Second, the appearance! The ring is made out of sterling silver and it is super shiny! I mean really, really, really shiny! Cool beans! Or rather I should say, cool rings!

So, if any of you Gay Guys in California are looking to make your union with your partner legal now that the California Supreme Court has overturned the ban on gay marriage (Yay!) and your low on funds then you really might want to consider buying this wedding ring because it literally screams, "I gotta' man! I gotta' man! So back off because i'm taken!"

For more info on this wedding ring and website click on JustMensRings.com!

Washing machine dies ****URGH!****HOOVER blows up ****BANG**** then broadband crashes ****CRASH!**** and the neighbours stole my portable washing unit****BOTTOM FEEDERS****

[------------------------------------>LIFE SUCKS!<-------------------------------------]

At least for a moment but then the realisation that I do not live in any of the recent affected areas devastated  by extreme freak weather conditions brings back to me the actual reality of my situation and I am thankful for all the little things in life and that I should not over emphasise materialistic objects!

hOMoLickEr ©

credits: Adam Bouska

model: Joshua

www.bouska.net

O Daniel achou esse video,de um progama japonês que é parecido com o Pânico,é muito bom ;D.

Some criticize The L Word is not a true representation of lesbians in reality: the characters are too damn beautiful and too "lipstick". Well, what's wrong with beautiful actresses? Everyone loves to watch beauty, that's the unchangeable fact. (How many doctors you know look as handsome as George Clooney anyway?) I think Showtime has aesthetic and (ultimately) commercial reasons to consider in their casting. Those people who want to see fat, bland butches on screen should perhaps watch documentaries!

At least The L Word is portraying lives of lesbians in a positive way, showing a rich lesbian culture that non-American viewers like myself can only dream of. In the place where I'm living, not only is there never a prominent lesbian character in TV shows (except perhaps as a villain who is killed off early in the plot or as a pseudo-lesbian who is eventually "cured" by a man) , even a documentary programme featuring a lesbian couple wanting to get married was reprimanded by the broadcasting authority for being "supportive of homosexuality" and showing "inappropriate content" during prime time! At least The L Word gives me comfort knowing that somewhere on this planet lesbians can (appear to) be so cool.

So here I am, taking out my TLW DVD collection and watching it all over again for the 5th time while waiting for the final season... (and by the way I read somewhere on youtube that there's a site petitioning to Showtime to continue with the series but I can't find that link again) . In the meantime I'd like to "LEARN THE L WORD" by jotting down references to the lesbian culture (Jargons, jokes etc.) that may be less familiar to non-English viewers.  I hope Chinese viewers who stumble upon my blog will find these entries useful to their understanding the L culture!

Artist Nina Katchadourian works in multiple mediums including sculpture, paint, photography, video, and collage but maintains a strong thematic concept throughout her collections. Each seems to study the relationship between the natural world and the human interpretation of it. She examines the way in which we as people, for lack of a better world, anthropomorphize the enviroment around us. How we insert our own human interpretations to create order out of a world that at first seems chaotic. The works seems to be saying to the viewer, "See! See! There is a pattern here, it is just not a human based one!"

Of her body of work entitled World Map, Katchadourian states:

I made this map in college in response to an assignment, and it marks the beginning of my work with maps. Using a blade, I took apart a paper map, moving pieces over to a large piece of paper which I watercolored the same blue as the ocean in the original map. Gradually, the world was reconfigured. I often reconstructed words using presstype in places where the names of countries had gotten truncated. There were switches based on historical or geopological factors (Western Europe inserted into West Africa); others were based on formal correspondences or quirks of the map itself. Australia and Alaska had the same green border color, for example, and fit perfectly together due to the distortion of scale that occurs towards the poles.

Nina Katchadourian was introduced to me via Katherine Dexter's Blog

In protest of the treatment of Hillary Clinton by the news media the National Origination of Women is asking that everyone keep their televisions off of MSNBC, NBC, AND CNN on primary day, May 20th.  Please watch nothing but Fox News that day for election results and everything else. Do not give these other news stations one second of your media time.   

Has anyone noticed that over the last week Hillary has been dismissed by the media as being totally unimportant?  They are giving her no coverage at all.  Then this morning I heard on tv, watch Tuesday night for the all important Oregon results, totally dismissing Kentucky.  Why not though, Obama has dismissed Kentucky totally and will not even go there to campaign.  I sure hope a lot of Kentucky people are aware of this as well and get out there in droves to vote for Hillary. Right now every single one of their votes counts. That is one way to get the media’s attention.  Small numbers of voters they can ignore, large numbers they can’t.  They are projecting Oregon will go to Obama. He spinsters try to say that the better class of voters vote for Obama then the lower class people who vote for Hillary.  They claim there are more elitist types in Oregpn and more college kids who will all vote for Obama.   Really?  I’ve got a couple of friends in Oregon who are college professors.  I always thought they were down to earth, hard working people who had a lot of stamina and brains enough to see through someone like BO.  It drives me nuts the way the media has crowned BHO the king and totally dismissed the little lady since she needs to get back to the kitchen. 

This weekend I am going to be out here and working for Hillary.  I am going to donate, call everyone I know in every state I can think of and ask them to donate, blog like mad and get the word out that right now every vote counts.  Obambie may get the most delegates but what we are after is the popular vote.  If Hillary can get people out in mass to vote for her in Kentucky and get people out in Oregon when Puerto Rico has their primary she will have the popular vote even without Florida and Michigan.  We cannot let the media discourage us and we can’t let them rule this presidential election.  We do have resources, we have the blogs and we can reach a greater number of people than the media can just by blogging.  This whole thing is being done to discourage people who voted for Hillary.  This is one person who is smart enough to see through it, get ticked off and work darned hard against it. 

If you haven’t donated please go here and do so.  If you are maxed out please ask friends and family to donate.  Hillary needs all the help and support she can get to win this. 

http://www.hillaryclinton.com/?splash=1

She is working her heart out for us.  She is on a grueling schedule; her family is running ragged all over the country and she needs each and every one of us to get out there to help in any way we can.  If you can go and work in Kentucky and Oregon, please do.  If you can donate, even $5.00 or $10.00 it helps and get family members to do the same.  Why should Obama be the one with money to burn and Hillary with 17 million supporters is financing her own campaign? We need to help and dig deep, every little bit matters. If you can phone bank and make calls for her please do so.  The media may not be covering her but we sure can.  This is OUR country, our election, our decision and our votes.  We need to be heard.  Make sure the people know you are NOT going to vote for Obama.  Listen to Corbett’s Corner.  He is talking to people all over the US, and the world as to their reasons why they are NOT voting for Obama.  Email him at: corbett@wilknewsradio.com and let him know why you would NOT vote for Obama. 

http://wilknetwork.com/Why-I-m-Turning-Down-Obama/2202399

Something else I want to talk about this morning is Larry Sinclair.  At first I thought this was just a story but I have to keep asking myself the same questions: Why would this man put his life in danger, talk to all the media who will listen, submit to a lie detector test, withstand the insults, the humiliation and the hate he has endured if he was not telling the truth?  I wish he would do another lie detector test without the spin of being sold out like he was at Whitehouse.  According to the people who tested him he lied on the test but according to the computer print out of the test he told the truth.  Do I believe him?  Actually I was not sure at first but I do now.  I honestly believe if he was lying he would have crumbled under all the pressure, backed off and went into hiding from all the death threats he is getting. The simple fact that he is out there still, trying to get someone to listen to his story says a lot.  I do not believe he is insane as the Obama camp is trying to tell people.  His writing make sense and there is a lot of clarity in them.  I do not believe he is after his 15 minutes of fame as Sinclair has had that and is still out there trying to get people to listen to him. 

Why is the media ignoring Larry Sinclair totally?  Give him a correct lie detector test, listen to his story and let the people be the judge as to whether or not he is ltelling the truth.  Personally I do believe he is and I am not an easy person to convince.  Larry Sinclair deserves to be heard, his story deserves to be told and the only press that has had the guts to carry it has been the Nation Enquirer and the Globe.  It is not just him who says these types of things about Obama either.  For those of you who don’t know, Larry Sinclair, he claims to have had oral sex with Obama twice and claims Obama smoked crack cocaine while he was with him just a few years ago.  Larry Sinclair has done everything he can to get someone to listen to him and not one single journalist has even bothered to cover the story.  He is even suing Obama and not a lick of coverage on that either. Why is this?  Why is the media so scared to cover this story?  They did cover it extensively in Puerto Rico and its been a big story over there and all over the media. But here, not one single journalist has even bothered to talk with him from MSM.  So why is the main stream media ignoring him?  Wouldn’t this be a simple thing to take care of?  Give him a controlled lie detector test done by like the cops who are not going to be bought out the way Whitehouse was and let’s see the results.  Basically, give the man a chance to have history heard.  Let the public be the judge of him and not dismiss him when Sinclair is doing everything he can to be heard.  I would love to see just one person in the main stream media take up that challenge.  But then of course like so many things with Obama, it is swept under the rug and kept out of the public view.  I would also like to know about the connection of Obama to the Murder of Donald Young (the young gay choir director from Obama’s church found brutally murdered on Christmas Day 2007)   What does Sinclair know about this one but the Chicago Police have not released this information as of yet.  What does Obama know?

http://wordpress.com/tag/larry-sinclair/

http://larrysinclair0926.wordpress.com/2008/05/13/will-obama-campsupporters-try-to-kill-larry-sinclair/

http://citizenwells.wordpress.com/2008/05/15/does-obama-have-knowledge-of-donald-youngs-murder-citizen-wells-poll-87-yes-reverend-manning-says-yes/

In other news, NARAL is questioning its endorsement of Obama.  Apparently many people are outraged that they backed him over Hillary as she has truly done the most for them.

http://blog.washingtonpost.com/the-trail/2008/05/15/naral_affiliates_question_obam.html

Remember, call, donate, write letters, contact people and let’s make our voices heard.  United we can move mountains. 

Let's accept every single one of their criticisms about Pinker's tone, his paranoia, and his obviously less than impartial personal opinions about people like Leon Kass. Nevertheless, Pinker does very clearly and very directly raise a lot of serious, and possibly fundamental, problems with the concept of "dignity" in bioethics. And none of these writers seem interested in responding to that particular challenge. Which is too bad, because that's really the only interesting part of the whole debate in the first place.

As one commenter said:

I’m not convinced Pinker has all the answers, but he seems to be taking the dignity argument more seriously than Jacobs, Douthat, or Levin. I tend to expect better of all three of those names. If Pinker was only 20% substance, that’s a higher percentage than any of the rest of us have achieved today.

Just to be a little provocative myself, let me say that I suspect the high regard that conservative scholars have for "dignity" lies in the fact that it, unlike the concepts of liberty and personal autonomy mediated by due process which have served us quite well so far, "dignity" is malleable enough that it allows the otherwise absurd idea that a random citizen sitting on their front porch is violating their own dignity by behaving in a way those scholars find distasteful (like licking an ice cream cone, or holding the hand of their gay lover). This also alleviates the often distressing inability to directly justify their dislikes as being immoral or harmful in any sensible, non-theological fashion.

"Dignity" also has the amazing power to declare morally important actions and objects that have no "personal" capacity in and of themselves: such as nerveless, intention-less cells that happen to have certain proteins active (i.e. fertilized eggs), but lack any objective capacity that anyone can tie to an ethical interest. If you can't explain why breaking apart an embryo is morally wrong in any sensibly direct fashion, well then you can always argue that doing so is a sort of bitter voodoo-doll assault on humanity's dignity, by proxy!

As is often the case, I'm being a little glib here myself. But I don't think I'm entirely without merit either. It's true that personal autonomy has it's own gray areas and problems, but it at least makes sense on some concrete level, especially as a principle value in a diverse and contentious society, and that provides a far more promising foundation than a concept that seems to mean everything and nothing. Furthermore, many of its problems can be redressed far more easily than the critics I referenced above allow. Even under a personal autonomy framework, we can, for instance, still understand why respecting the wishes of someone when they are not actively awake or unconscious would be important.

In that spirit, here's a much more intriguing and substantive response to the Pinker article, from another writer at the American Scene, Noah Millman.

How very odd indeed... it all started with a visit to the open air food market in Stellenbosch, lots of yummy food, some tears for the abandoned puppies that they were selling, more food then the railway crossing. We start crossing the railway in our car, the traffic was bad so we were the third car in line for the stop street... the beams didn't come down so we knew that there was no train right... Very very wrong, we were all merry and chatting away when the next thing we heard was a nice loud train (thankfully loud). It was interesting to see how everyone reacted is all I can say, strangely enough I was calm - the others, well lets just say that someone is going to get a letter about how the paint off the back of the car was peeled away by a racing trainmobile...

Then on the way back after the train incident we were once again driving along merrily when a BMW literally ramped over a hill practically airborne landed near our car and sped off - must have been a supped up one because I've never seen a BMW do some of those tricks... our driver swerves gives way to maniac then the police fly past us like batman on amphetamines en route to catching him.

To add a cherry to the cake we got back to the house to sample all the produce we had bought only to hear how race is the reason for our countries downfall. I flipped and proceeded to tell them that perhaps it was, perhaps it was their government that took education away... it didn't go down to well and ended very short.

I am tired, oh so tired, of labels. If a government fails it is because they are democrats or liberals, they are white or black it is never because that person was the wrong one for the job. Gay or straight, female or male, you aren't just human you HAVE to have a label... why? If I meet you on the street I see you as a unique person that I'd like to know, if you don't have morals then I prefer not to, is that bad?

Do these labels that we put on people make us feel better, more superior than the other, do they help us gain status? Do we blame everything on these labels so that we can bypass hypocrisy and not look at how we are ourselves?

I don't care much for labels, you can be gay or straight, male or female, pink or blue, gorilla or lion all I see is you, if that is wrong then I apologise but that is just how it is, how I have always been, how I always will be...

Think I need that "Meditate on this sign" round about now... ;-)

The lesson in the near misses? There is adventure everywhere, sometimes it is not the type you'd normally enjoy ... those are the ones that wake you up, make you remember that you have today, a day that you can do anything with, the choice is yours how you spend it...

En cette Journée internationale contre l'homophobie, je ne serai pas bien bien original, car je fais partie du 70% des Canadiens qui se sentent à l'aise avec cette question. Il est donc très difficile pour moi d'écrire là-dessus, puisque je ne voudrais pas tomber dans la moralisation plate...

Des homosexuels, surtout hommes, j'en ai beaucoup plus côtoyé voilà une dizaine d'années quand je frayais avec la scène électronique, pour ne pas dire « rave », mais le fait que j'en ai moins autour de moi aujourd'hui ne me pose pas non plus de problème... C'est hautement circonstanciel et normal.

Je connais des gens homophobes (quand même assez légèrement en majorité...) et, pour en avoir parlé avec eux, cela semble être plus physique que réfléchi... Question d'éducation ç'a l'air, et j'ai même l'impression que ça leur semble honteux. Quand quelqu'un est capable d'en parler sans fermer les portes, c'est déjà bon signe. Pour les boomers homophobes, c'est une autre paire de manches, mais ils sont déjà de toute façon en voie d'extinction... cela écrit avec un clin d'oeil du côté le plus visible!

Autre chose qui ne me pose pas de problème, ce sont les blagues là-dessus, car il est extrêmement rare qu'elles soient carrément méchantes, donc homophobes, enfin celles que j'entends autour de moi, dans mon milieu fortement hétérosexuel, et surtout adulte. Je pense que tout le monde mérite une petite blague de temps en temps, qui aime bien châtie bien, non?

Je suis certain que dans le Village de Nathalie (expression que j'ai entendu de la bouche d'un ancien collègue DJ homosexuel), les blagues sur l'hétérosexualité fusent et ça ne me dérange pas du tout!

Mais je suis d'accord pour dire qu'à l'enfance et à l'adolescence, le sujet des blagues, qui prennent plus souvent un ton discriminatoire, est un gros problème. La tendance culturelle mondiale, très axée sur le hip-hop/R&B gangstérilisant, met de l'avant un culte de l'hétérosexualité qui se mélange parfois et souvent au culte de Dieu, ce qui est incompatible avec l'homosexualité, surtout mâle... Et donc, où le lesbianisme est instrumentalisé à outrance.

Vivement pour que cette journée disparaisse, mais malheureusement, nous sommes loin du compte. Cette journée n'est vraiment pas une fête...

(Photo : new-ars - ce billet est inspiré en grande partie d'une initiative de Zed Blog, qui regroupe une multitude de billets sur le sujet de l'homophobie.)

Queda flotando en el aire la pregunta si todos los que desfilan son o no homos?

Havana Nights at Nikki Beach and Club Nikki with DJ Dezrock and Miss M showcased all the finest Miami has to offer: gorgeous women, hot, steamy temperatures and sexy salsa rhythms to get the hips moving.

The Aqua Girls took over the Penrod complex with parties both downstairs in Nikki Beach and upstairs in Club Nikki. My new favorite DJ played a mix of the best in salsa and merengue blended with a little house music.

These girls were playing spin the bottle when I found them.

Now on its fifth year, Aqua Girl is the largest benefit women’s week in the United States. 100% of the proceeds raised during the week go directly back into the community.

Aqua Girl 08 is produced by Aqua Foundation for Women. The Aqua Foundation for Women was created to promote the strength, health, equality and visibility of South Florida’s lesbian, bisexual, transgender and questioning (LBTQ) women.

See all 107 pictures on Napkin Nights.
http://miami.napkinnights.com/pics/view_album.php?id=4699

Natasha then shows how the phrase is very often used in connection with attitudes towards homosexuality and writes:

As long as you are defining homosexuality as a sin that deserves to be hated, how do you avoid hating homosexuals? If you hate Islam, how do you not hate Muslims? On the flip side, are you really supposed to hate war but not warmongers? Hate pedophilia but love pedophiles?

How can you hate someone’s sexual orientation to the point where you refuse to meet their partner of nearly a decade, and still claim to love them? ...

Furthermore, why should the actor and the action be separated? I hold the actions of President Bush against him ... He is the person who did all those things that I hate. I feel legitimized in hating the actor for his actions. Am I wrong?

I tend to agree with Natasha, and I will cite some further support below, but I have some reservations.

Parents, I think, can love their children but hate some of their actions. If someone's son or daughter murders someone else, or gets involved in prostitution or something like that, does the parent stop loving? I do not think so. But for those caught in those situations, there would be hell to pay emotionally as deep seated values and natural responses conflict.

Yet, Natasha makes a number of valid points, and their are limits to the applicability of my counter-example. First, it presupposes a parental kind of relationship; one that is built up through some of the most powerful human experiences that I don't think can be transferred from one context to another. Just because we may love our children or parents or siblings despite hating some of the things they do does not mean that we can transfer that kind of emotion onto other people and other circumstances, let alone complete strangers or a whole collective of people like homosexuals!

The idea of love the sinner, hate the sin is probably based on the metaphor of God as parent; so Christians are attempting to do what their theology tells them God is doing. This is not dependent upon there being any bible verse that employs that phrase directly. There are a number of "parental" passages in the bible. Yet, the good must be taken with the bad, and the god of the Bible is a total jackass.

For god so loved the world he killed his only begotten son to save himself from having to kill everyone who doesn't believe that he loved them enough to give them rules they cannot fully obey despite threats of an eternal hell far worse than all the natural disasters with which he plagued humanity (Gospel of Jim, 3:16).

In other words, the biblical divine love from which Christians might deduce the "hate the sin, love the sinner" axiom is not really the sort of emotions or postures that well-adjusted, caring parents would feel toward children who have gotten themselves into a lot of trouble with the law, or other unacceptable behaviors. It is an unattainable ideal derived from a selective "feel good" reading of a complex bunch of ancient texts that imposes a "parental" metaphor upon a god also made to bear the weight of the metaphor of the divine Emperor (with all the perks that go with it), and creator and destroyer, in a system that has to admit that evil somehow is the creation of the divine. Monotheism is a sloppy theological system, and "ethical monotheism" is claim made about the Jewish and Christian religion that is only a jingoistic rhetorical ploy, with no real substance behind it. Of course, since gods are created in the image of humanity, that may say a lot about the people who produced and promulgated the texts that now make up the Bible. So, here is my first "Profound Statement of 2008".

THE BIBLICAL GOD CANNOT LOVE THE SINNER AND HATE THE SIN LIKE A LOVING PARENT MIGHT. HE HAS TOO MANY OTHER HATS TO WEAR. AND HE IS AN ASSHOLE. AND BIBLE BELIEVERS HAVE BEEN TRYING TO COVER HIS ASS WITH THOSE HATS EVER SINCE THE DAMN BOOK WAS WRITTEN.

Caring parents do not spew violence and venom at the whole world. Rather, in typical illiberal Christian polemics against homosexuality, "love the sinner..." is an ideal that has necessarily collapsed under the weight of how difficult it is to do and how the necessary emotional commitments are not even remotely in place.

Do people so easily take up all the internal turmoil of loving someone who does what is hateful? I suppose some social workers and other activists attempt it with some success, and the world is a much better place for it, but this sort of work cannot be for everyone. The cost is too high.

The values placed on the religious tradition of God as parent makes it another item in the tool box of ideas, values, ethics, and role models Christians have for getting about their business in the world. Of course, every person has their own little tool box based on their own philosophies, education, religion, culture and personal experiences. We use their contents selectively, sometimes choosing wisely to the benefit of others and sometimes we choose selfishly and use otherwise nice ideals to justify our own little hypocrisies and double standards. Don't get me wrong, Christians are not the only people who employ their ideals in self-serving ways! Everyone does it.

And that is the way I see this "love the sinner" stuff. In the situations Natasha described it is used to justify disgust. The ideal in its pure form can have no force since the deeply personal bonds upon which the ideal is based do not really exist in the case of many Christian folks trying to hold on to what they think is sacred while relating to the modern rise of liberal, atheistic, homosexual and other voices that challenge their core beliefs. They are unwilling to really come to terms with what "love" means. Hate is much easier.

As further proof for Natasha's thesis, there was an article in the Lethbridge Herald today (story is not on the online edition, it is a Canadian Press story by Will Johnson) about a Catholic Church in Whitehorse NWT that has banned a peace activist from speaking because he was gay. Yup. Asshats.

James Loney was working for the Christian Peacemaking Team in Iraq. In Nov. 2006 he was abducted and held hostage for around five months. His family feared that if news got out that he was gay, his captors would kill him in disgust. According to the story, Mark Connell, a member of the congregation of Sacred Heart Cathedral in Whitehorse, and an organizer of the talk, said the church held prayer meetings and vigils during the Loney's ordeal, and so thought having him speak there would be a sensible move. His talk on on peace, forgiveness, and healing was held in a secular venue. But get these quotes from the Bishop Gary Gordon:

Everyone is always welcome to come to our church, but not everyone is welcome to speak in front of our congregation.

If someone wanted to come talk about he environment, which is a wonderful thing, but was actively pro-choice (on abortion) we wouldn't allow them to present either. Is just doesn't add up."

My shattered flipping braincells! I wonder if the good Bishop agrees on all points of doctrine with all the other bishops! Does everyone in his congregation who might get up to speak at a wedding or funeral understand the Catholic teachings on the trinity, papal infallibility, transubstantiation, or the immaculate conception? Is everyone there doctrinally perfect? What a fucking asshat!

But he is not alone: In October 2007 Loney was also prevented from speaking at a peace conference in Manitoba when his invite was revoked by the Archdiocese of Winnipeg. So, you cannot contribute to peace unless you agree never to disagree on unrelated issues! Imagine if warring factions that are negotiating peace agreements actually thought this way! (oh yeah, they do, which is why so many wars are still going on...).

Here we have a perfect case of a church heirarchy that cannot accept that someone who disagrees on one issue is worth listening to on other matters. Love the sinner? Put aside differences for a common goal? Bullshit. Any ethical ideal Bishop Asshat thinks he is defending is only a shadow. He is not about purity of the soul but of thought, and in religious systems (as in political ones), "purity" is not about ethics, but conformity.

So, hate the asshattery, but how much respect do asshats deserve? Not much. As far as love goes, that is for family, friends and so forth.

Prior to the ceremony, Rev. F sent us several versions of same-sex and heterosexual wedding ceremonies.  We looked through all of them and pieced together the best parts of all of them into our ideal ceremony.  The ceremony began with Pachelbel's Canon (played on piano and cello by friends of Dac's from high school) as Dac and I came down the isle on the arms of our mothers.  Dac went first, he's younger.  Then Dac's mom's best friend, CC, and another friend of ours sang Ubi Caritas to set the mood for the ceremony.

One important part of the ceremony was the very end, when the minister pronounced us married.  It was so great to actually hear him say:  "By the power invested in me by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, I now pronounce you married."  This was a very traditional ending to a not-so-traditional ceremony, but it was very powerful to be able to make this claim in front of our family and friends.

Well, well, well

How are you? I am OK. Actually, I am exhausted. Yesterday I went to the Genderfuck Ball held by all the Queer Clubs from all the tertiary institutions in WA to celebrate International Day Against Homophobia (IDAHO). It was a great night despite the drama from some of my friends. Plus, I got an excuse to dress up in a suit and tie, something I do not often do yet admittedly quite fun. After all, I am "genderfucking" so I can do whatever I want.

The 17th of May is the Norwegian Constitution Day. It is the day which celebrates the signing of the Norwegian Constitution in Eidsvoll in 1814. It is also IDAHO today as well. Hooray for equality and Norwegians everywhere! How did I celebrate these days? Well I celebrated IDAHO last night and for Norwegian Constitution Day... I am staying at home because I am looking after my little brother. But I will consider the Genderfuck Ball as my celebration for the day.

Have you ever had to fight for your right? I sometimes think I have to fight for my right... to wear whatever fucking t-shirt I want. I went to the record store to buy the new Death Cab For Cutie record (btw, it is grrrrreat) and I was in the shopping centre when a lady with child looked at me as if she was repulsed by the very sight of me and said to me "it is people like you that make me fear what is going to happen to the world" and glared at me as I looked at her confused at what just happened. I then realised she was upset because of the t-shirt I decided to wear which had this graphic on the front:

As some of you may know, I am huge fan of this band. This shirt is actually one of my favourite shirts I own. I think I'll still wear it when I am in my 40s even if it looks completely ridiculous. People have glared at me when I have won this shirt before, but this was the first time someone actually approached me because of it. I am a believer of free speech, so if I like Bad Religion the band and if I think Christianity (and most religions in general) are bad to begin with, then I can express my opinion any fucking way I want. How come people can get away wearing just as offensive shirts saying "Australia: Love it or leave it" as a message towards immigrants to warn them not to complain about Australia because if they do, they should leave because they don't belong. Love it or leave it, isn't that a little black and white?

Everytime I see a shirt with a message like this, I get so angry inside. I am an immigrant, and if I don't agree with Australia's policies, views or whatever, then I will say that I don't agree with them. If I do agree with Australia, I also say that I agree too. Everytime I see this shirt/slogan I always think that the person is a closet (or very open) racist and I want to punch them in the face. But I don't punch them. In fact, I say nothing and I keep on walking.

I am not saying the woman who was angry with my shirt was wrong in expressing her opinion to me, she should be allowed to express her opinion to me. But I should be allowed to express my opinion to the knob heads who wear those "love it or leave it" shirts. In fact, I might start doing that. If people think I am a satanist (I am not) then I am gonna go up to all these racist pigs and tell them that immigrants helped build Australia and we will express our opinion towards this country no matter how positive or negative it is.

I suppose this blog is about being proud of who you are. I am just proud to be myself. Now, all I want to see is a t-shirt making fun of me for that, I would buy that shirt too.

Cobra Celia d-_-b

This week’s piece: May I Have This Dance? by Owen Powell

Subject: A soldier in Iraq dreams of Natalie Portman. We enjoyed this essay, in which the author reveals a thoughtful and romantic heart beneath the necessarily hard exterior of a soldier. For our gay version, in which he dreams of Johnny Depp, click here.

We thought it was interesting that Daniel Jones would select this essay as a winner of his "college essay" contest -- given that the writer seems to be in his late 20s and is enrolled at an "online institution" -- which seems to indicate an admirable willingness on Jones' part to stretch the rules, and yet he seems so reluctant to do the same with regard to gay-authored essays.

Filed under: Straight Man on “Relationships”

The updated tally (or why we feel like animals in the zoo): 7 out of 179 columns by openly gay writers; 2 out of 179 on female gay relationships; 0 out of 179 on male gay relationships. In what is arguably the “gayest” section of The Times, more women have written about gay men than gay men have.

Straight Woman on Relationships iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii ii (42)
Straight Woman on Family iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii i (36)
Straight Woman on “Looking for Love” iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii (35)
Straight Woman on Breaking Up iiiii iiiii iiiii iiiii iii (23)
Straight Man on Relationships iiiii iiiii ii (12)
Straight Man on Breakup iiiiii (6)
Straight Woman on Gay Men iiiii i (6)
Straight Man on Family iiiii i(6)
Straight Man on “Looking for Love” iiiii (5)
Gay Man on Family ii (2)
Gay Woman on Relationship ii (2)
Gay Woman on Family i (1)
Gay Man on Self-Hatred i (1)
Gay Man on Prom Date i (1)
Ambiguous/Nurse on Drugs i (1)

May I Have This Dance?

I SPENT most of last year and a decent-size chunk of the year before in Iraq. For the last half of that sojourn I was stationed at a combat outpost on the east side of Baghdad.

That may sound impressive in a military sort of way, but it actually consisted of being locked up in a burned-out shell of a building surrounded by several hundred thousand deeply antagonistic Iraqis, many of whom had fervently tried to kill me on a number of occasions, and nearly succeeded once, as proved by the hole in my helmet.

As if being hated by my neighbors wasn’t bad enough, the outpost was severely limited in amenities. Well, perhaps “amenities” is too positive a word; how about severely limited in the basic necessities of life?

And love? There isn’t a whole lot of love floating around Baghdad, particularly when you have an American flag on your shoulder and you’re driving seven tons of armor along the local alleyways. No, my concern was much more tangible and, at the outpost, apparently just as unlikely to be fulfilled.

For the first two months of my “lease,” there was no electric power or running water. The ground floor had been torched in the ecstatic looting at the start of the war, and the walls were charred with a thick black soot.

The basement was choked with algae-green water, diesel fuel and sewage. The medics had pulled out at least two bloated corpses the first week we moved in, and we were reasonably sure that there were others down there, judging by the odor.

Daytime temperatures exceeded 120 degrees, which gives you an idea of just how appealing that smell was. I didn’t smell much better. I got a shower every 6 to 12 days, depending on luck and whether the little inflatable shower tent had sprung another leak.

Meals consisted of the execrable MREs, which we often wolfed down to the chorus of incoming mortar rounds.

It was everything I had ever hoped to experience in the military. It really was. Not that I would ever choose to do it again.

I would stagger in from a six-hour patrol, peel off my grease-slicked 80 pounds of body armor, ammunition, grenades and assorted firearms, and collapse on my rickety aluminum cot. Privacy was unknown, as was air-conditioning. I would lie on the cot, listen to the competing voices of 600 or so of my closest friends, stare at the bone-gray concrete ribs of the ceiling, and let sleep flow into me.

If I was lucky, I would dream of Johnny Depp. Lord only knows why, but again and again he walked through my subconscious: serene, unsullied, good, like honeysuckle on a cool summer night.

Now I’m not some pimply fanboy in camouflage. I’m married, devoted to my relationship partner. I have a home and a dog named Winston who loves me as only a black Lab can.

It wasn’t even that my dreams of Johnny were particularly notable, at least not in the usual soldier sense of notable. It was the texture within the dreams that mattered, and how that flowed into the rotisserie hell of another Baghdad morning.

He and I would have dinner in a darkened restaurant, somewhere hip and stratospherically expensive, thick with the smell of polished wood. The swirling flashbulb-pop taste of something unpronounceable on my tongue; looking up, smiling and feeling the shivering joy of having him laugh at a witticism of mine.

That smile! I had seen it a hundred times, on movie screens, on television sets, that sudden heart-skip pulse stabbing from glimpsing his image on a magazine stand.

Guarding an Iraqi police station in the glare of the midday sun, my carbine ready for the next catastrophe, I would cradle that smile in my mind, cherish it, grasp at it even as it faded and blurred and swam out of focus.

Dancing together, somewhere crowded, humid with perfume, the electronic beat of the music, and the pulse of a foreign city. The air twisting with a sort of water-shimmer light. Strobes, laser beams, the lightning-fast shot of an impossibly high cheekbone, frozen for a glimpsed eternity; the suggested promise of Johnny’s eyes, intoxicating, piercing.

Dreams of dancing? I can’t dance at all. Still, who am I to argue with my subconscious? Some people fly in their dreams — in mine, I dance.

I clung to those visions. Out on patrol, encased in the steel and Kevlar frame of the Humvee, my ears buzzing with the tinny voices on the radio, I eyed the burqa-clad locals outside the thick locked door, along with every single piece of roadside refuse.

In the Humvee, I searched for that elusive image of Johnny from the night before; I hunted for him through the blood-warm passages of my mind, chased the feeling of him down tunnels collapsing with the weight of status reports and threat conditions.

The thick brushstroke of a single arched eyebrow. A glance across that crowded dance floor, somehow simultaneously sharp and accusatory and mesmerizing. It was as if I had something secret and untouchable that was wholly mine, a delicate and perfect gift in a city that seemed to feast on hate.

My reveries weren’t all Lifetime TV romance, though. In a personal touch, sometimes the dream would be of losing him, or of desperate searches unfulfilled. The breakup argument in the spotless white penthouse apartment. Recriminations, tears. Running down rain-slicked city streets, locked doors, impassive doormen, and always that perfect angelic face; leaving with someone else, or seen in a blank stare through a limousine window.

Life on Baghdad streets is dominated by boredom, paroxysms of anger and the constant throbbing beat of resentment. Hatred and rage boil up from the shell-pocked concrete — you can feel yourself changing, morphing, becoming mean.

Even the specter of losing Johnny Depp was better than that; even the memory of imaginary heartache is preferable to the slow feeling of turning into a vampire. Perhaps it is the curse of all men; the sad final truth that the male half of the human race might only confide in one another over a few too many beers: you only truly love a man when he walks out the door.

BUT like I said, none of the details really mattered. What mattered was that I would wake up in that green morass of mosquito nets, amid the faint ichor glow of the chemlights, and for one long delicious moment, I would not know where I was.

The logical waking side of me worried a bit about this imaginary romance playing out inside me. Was I losing it? Was this some bizarre form of post-traumatic stress disorder, forgotten from the field manuals, omitted from the obligatory psych journals? Wasn’t it bad enough that I was trying to hold together a marriage (thank you Massachusetts) across 5,000 miles through crackling cellphone calls in the middle of the night or, wonder of wonders, Yahoo Messenger?

But my obsession wasn’t so strange. After all, we live in a world where we know more about Marc Jacob's boyfriends than anything our next-door neighbor is doing. Human beings have always set beauty upon a pedestal through paintings, sculpture or literature, and moreover we covet what we see every day. Classic art may have faded in the last 100 years, but the archetypes of beauty have merely been repackaged, reinvented — far more effectively than anybody but Andy Warhol could ever have imagined.

We are told exactly what we should look like, whom we should be, and most important, whom we should desire. The cultural legends of our past have faded, and now Hollywood packages the new deities in digital halos.

It’s almost a year later and I’m home now, home in the larger sense of the United States, instead of in the suspect sense of the world at large. Baghdad has receded in my mind, remembered now only by the names of my dead friends, tattooed forever on my arm.

Most improbably, I’m here in New York, an offhand and completely unexpected gift of the Army. Thanks for getting shot; we’re sending you to Brooklyn. I didn’t know if I should laugh or ... well, laugh some more. It’s everything a soldier could ask for. No field training. Home every night. Easy duty.

Best of all, non-deployable — that legendary status combat vets dream of (at least any vet with a shred of common sense). No one trying to kill you. I get a nice rent-free three-bedroom house, plenty of parking, in New York. Culture and entertainment and handmade cannoli. Plenty of time to explore. Someone even told me that Johnny Deep once filmed a movie around here.

Problem is, I don’t dream about him anymore. Ten years ago I would spend my weekends flinging myself out of airplanes; now I spend Saturdays on the couch with my partner. I remember Friday nights roaring though Seoul on my motorcycle, blitzed and helmetless and immortal; now my free-time adventures are on an Xbox. Worst of all, I feel reasonably happy with the shifting winds of domesticity.

Call it the double-edged sword of contentment.

This is my new reality. Working the graveyard shift, alone. Sitting in my patrol car on the bluff above the water, I watch the cargo ships slide silently past in the silver-white light of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge. Smoke what seems like my hundredth Camel of the night. Take another sip of lukewarm convenience-store coffee. Yawn the edge of sleep from my eyes; I know it holds no wonders for me tonight.

Staring across the cold water, I feel the end out there, somewhere, sidling past the buildings across the river, circling in. Not death — something subtly worse, in its own way. The growing certainty: I will probably never dance the lambada with Johnny Depp.

To put it briefly, I couldn't put the thing down. I read and read and read, stayed up far too late at night, and finished the whole thing in two days flat, which is quite incredible for me.

So, what makes it so gripping? In a word, characters. Nice, everyday, engaging, likeable, real characters, who jump off the page and take up residence in your living room, so vividly do they come across.

This doesn't mean the book is light and fluffy. The sections dealing with the hero's mother's illness and gradual deterioration with Alzheimer's are both true to life and harrowing, and there's also a doomed love affair and family problems and rifts galore. Overall, though, the feel is surprisingly upbeat and the resolution for the hero is nicely satisfying.

The early part of the novel is set around Wandsworth prison and is apparently the closest thing to autobiography Gale has yet written. It also involves a character based on Ronnie Biggs, the Great Train Robber, who influences future events in the hero's life to a surprising degree.

I can't praise the book or the writer enough and will definitely be on the lookout for more of his titles to devour.