And what’s likely to happen next depending on the decision and how broadly it’s indicated to apply.
This is very useful reading before stuff comes out. Because this is not just a “yes or no” thing — there’s a lot of details that could decide the entire future of the marriage equality fight in the US.
Hopefully every time you walk right into a boundary, whether linguistic, economic, or cultural, the pain of that impact will rouse you a little more until you wake up to a radical political consciousness. But this doesn’t happen for everyone, no matter how queer they may really feel. And for some who surmount the many barriers to even coming out, something still might have to give. When it does, like it did for Jamie Hubley, we have to seize the opportunity in this tragedy for shifting our focus from the psychology of the troubled kid onto the society-level sickness we’re really dealing with.
Yes, a writer for Bitch just used kids killing themselves as a playing chip in the anti-assimilation wars.
This is vile and all kinds of wrong and fuck you, there is not a wrong way to be gay, I am not less evolved or somehow pitiable because I want to get married and say I was born this way, and keep the kids out of it, oh my god.
“Hey, Brittany, I heard your friend Sam shot herself,” one began.
“Did you see her blow her brains out?”
“Did you pull the trigger for her?”
“What did it look like?”
“Was there brain all over the wall?”
“You should do it too. You should go blow your head off.”
Link has triggers for homophobia, suicide, and being a gay kid in rural America.
Before you tell me not to say I was born this way, you should fucking read this.
vh1:
Adam Lambert Talks About Writing “Better Than I Know Myself” [Tuner]
Adam opens up to VH1 about how “Better Than I Know Myself” deals with the adversity faced as a LGBT person and performer.
Adam Lambert, still the pop star of my dreams.
“I think the people hoping for a lesbian princess need to be reminded that Disney movies are aimed at kids. I don’t think there is anything wrong with being gay, but to push the idea at kids before they understand what that means will only confuse them. Also as a parent, I would be pissed at Disney for addressing such controversial topics in a movie intended for children”.
I’ve been waiting for an opportunity like this. Generally I don’t pay much attention to opinion blogs because a lot of people are under the impression that there is no such thing as a ‘wrong opinion’ (which there is) and talking to said people is much like talking to a pile of rocks, except even rocks would be preferable to these kind of ridiculous people.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being gay, but -” Nope. Stop right there. If you truly think there is nothing wrong with being gay, then that would be the end of it. You would not have this opinion. There is no ‘but’. Queer couples should have the same representation in children’s movies as heteronormative couples because - gasp! - there is nothing wrong with being gay!
You speak of ‘confusing’ the kids - tell me, though. How? How would this confuse them? When children watch Disney films, they are not thinking about sex. When they see Ariel and Eric kiss, or Aladdin and Jasmine, or Aurora and Phillip, or every goddamn couple in the entire franchise, they are not thinking about penises and vaginas, they are watching two people who love each other kiss. It’s simple and actually incredibly clear. There is nothing confusing about two people in love.
See, heterosexuality and heteronormativity is so ingrained in our culture that, most of the time, we don’t even realize it’s there. This confession is a prime example of that. And to assume that representing a gay couple would somehow be ‘pushing’ homosexuality on them is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Considering sexuality is an innate part of us, something we are born with and cannot change, you could show a child nothing but animated gay couples going on adventures and falling in love and if the child is straight, they’ll still be straight at the end of it. Representation is not about trying to coerce anyone into being anything they’re not - it is about shedding light on the people of society who have been kept in the dark, about teaching children that not being the norm is okay.
Do you realize that there are children out there with gay parents? Gay relatives? Gay friends? That there are children out there - prepare yourself - who are gay? What do you think it’s like for them to see the same boy and girl fall in love over and over? That what they feel isn’t ‘appropriate’? That what they feel is ‘too confusing’ to be displayed?
It is statements and opinions like these that reinforce homophobia and make kids afraid to be themselves. This is what keeps people in the closet, in denial, afraid to come out, because the majority - heterosexuals like yourself, I presume - have condoned homosexuality/being queer as being ‘too confusing’ when it’s been proven time and time again that it’s just as natural as anything else.
man
just heads up, trigger warning for homophobia/slurs stuff below
look, here’s my stance on that word. I grew up being called queer as an extremely violent pejorative slur. I was punched in the face while called that. I was locked inside the locker room without anything but my underwear once, and they wrote “FAGGOT QUEER” on my locker. my parents called me that word, and they said it with malice and hatred.
it is a slur. it is not one to me in the context that I use it because I’m reclaiming it. I am actively trying to strip that word of the power it had when used against me by identifying specifically as queer.
that. word. is. a. slur.
(obviously in that context. i actually adore deeply reading it in The Lord of the Rings right now because when it’s not said in the context of me being a GROSS DIRTY GAYSEX GAY, it’s a rad word. I love it.)
so here’s the thing
theory only goes so far in my opinion. if a heterosexual couple feels they’re going against their gender roles in the bedroom, more power to ‘em. call yourselves queer to one another. that’s rad. do your own thing. that doesn’t affect me in the slightest.
but when someone comes at me and tries to tell me they’re queer because maybe the dude gets pegged in the bedroom
man
get that shit out of my face
in exactly 0% of all social situations ever, that person and that couple will be read as queer. i never got the choice to identify as being gay or queer. i was a little queer faggot sinner since i was about 9 or ten years old, and that word was assigned to me, and used against me for extreme acts of violence, abuse, bullying, and – i know this word is thrown around a lot online, but i fucking mean it – oppression.
the nerve that someone has to appropriate a word that they have the glorious luxury of choosing or waltzing into because of something they do in the privacy of their own bedroom that exactly zero people will ever see or know about
that shit aint fucking right y’all.
it’s so weird to me that this is popping up because when i was a little babygay at cal state long beach and doing lgbt activism, we HAD these people who would come to our groups for support or advice. it was rad because straight couples were like “we want to explore this stuff and our straight friends are boring judgmental bigots and we would much rather talk to queer people about sexual experimentation in our relationship.”
and we welcomed them with open arms. we were flattered, we were proud, and we wanted to help
but when it came time to discussing things like activism, or having gay support groups, or even our general queer-y events and such
both heterosexual couples who would come to some meetings always respected us and sat out
and they rationalized it in exactly the same way! like, we will never ever ever ever face the systematic shit that these people do, so it’s not our place to be in the space when they need to be with other queers and gay folk
so that’s my stance on it. do i want to queer up everything? yes, forever until the end of time. are you straight? then you better proceed with EXTREME caution, tact, and respect about this sort of shit. have some common courtesy for what people have gone through and for what people have suffered, you know?
(PS: this is legit like my favorite ask of the last year. bravo, sometimesalex!!! <3)
but prejudice sure does do a hell of a lot to cause, maintain, grow, and weaponize that ignorance.
Just because something is constructed as a social category, doesn’t mean that it’s not enormously meaningful. It doesn’t mean that we haven’t built a whole damn civilization on it. Doesn’t mean that we don’t live our daily lives on it, doesn’t mean that we don’t use it all the time every time we’re walking down the street. This is real. It’s stuff that has physical manifestations in the real world. But that does not mean that it is organic.
ffffffffffuck yes
tumblr pay attention
This is a fucking fascinating interview and gives me a look at history I didn’t know existed.
And it makes me feel like less of an alien.
(Source: jessicavalenti)
When Stars Collide | Out Magazine
NEIL PATRICK HARRIS
I ran into my friend Kate one day and she was with this brooding, James Dean–type guy in a leather jacket who gave me the head nod and then turned away. I assumed he was Kate’s boyfriend and said, “Nicely done.” And she said, “David? He’s not playing on my team, but he has a boyfriend.” So, then I just kept seeing him on the periphery, and in turn, catching up on him, but I didn’t want to be that guy who was creating some sort of romantic interference. So, I was always around when he was around, hoping the stars would align. When we all hung out for the first time — I was invited by Kate to an American Idol viewing party — I just stammered around him. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
There’s something kinetic about him and his being. He’s classically sexy, yet he’s very much a boy in his energy. It’s a great dynamic. When I see people who are equally attractive, they tend to seem more quiet and kind of Marlboro Man-y, and David’s the antithesis of that. He’s more like Tigger. I’m, in turn, very introspective — the thinker, rather than the doer. I tend to weigh options before making decisions, and David is the polar opposite of that. We’re hyper similar and also incredibly opposite. We share a wardrobe. We have the same shoe size, body size, height, and weight. We’re both Gemini. We both like the idea of family — not a nuclear family, but a social family. Yet, we’re incredibly opposite in the way we process information.
I remember being in my mid-twenties, lying in bed thinking, I’ve never taken a shower with anyone before; I’ve never had any kind of long-term relationship. I remember thinking that the rest of my life would be solo. I wasn’t weepy when I thought that — it was just a realization that I had gone this long being self-sufficient. Thankfully, the world changed and perceptions changed, and my life went to the East Coast, where there’s a much greater acceptance of anonymity and freedom. In New York, I was able to date with my head held higher. In L.A., it felt much more gossipy.
It’s all baby steps: You have to be OK with telling your friends you’re going on a date; you have to be OK with the people in your world meeting and judging them; you have to be OK with breakups. I’m infinitely grateful all those steps led to Mr. Burtka — once we started talking, we never stopped.
Staying with each other didn’t seem like going to the next level because we were sort of transients at the time. We thought if we were both going to be paying $5,000 a month to use someone else’s sheets and towels, we might as well do it together.
We found a place in Harlem that a woman had been living in for 40-odd years, and it was roomy and reasonably priced. We went to L.A. and got this moving truck and collected his mattress and bed frame and some stuff we each had in storage, and we started a journey across the country. We stopped in Albuquerque, where my family is, and they gave us some stuff. And we went through Memphis and up to Michigan, where his family is, and picked up his parents’ piano. We went slowly across America, filling up this truck, and by the time we got to New York, we had a new life full of furniture.
I initially fell for David harder than he fell for me. I was in love with him before he was comfortable saying it, and I think that speaks to our past experiences. I remember saying, “I think I love you,” and he was like, “That’s really nice,” which is not necessarily what you want to hear. But I appreciated his honesty in not jumping the gun and saying something because he felt obliged to.
Two of the things I hold dear, as tenets, are creativity and authenticity. Creativity can be on any level, but authenticity is key, too. If we have a fault, it’s probably over-communication. When I’m cranky, I’m admittedly cranky. When I’m in a hurry and distracted, I can’t act like it’s any other way. And he’s good with that, too. So we talk things out. I don’t want to paint our relationship like we met and it’s been happy family fantastic-ness ever since. What defines a relationship is the work that’s involved to maintain it, and it’s constantly changing. Sometimes I’m deeply in love with David and head-over-heels, and sometimes I question whether it’s going to work out and is meant to be. It’s like a business relationship, as well as a personal one; we have a business together and that’s maintaining our love for one another.
David first proposed to me five years ago on the actual street corner where we met. We were on our way to an event at an Indian casino 45 minutes out of town in a limousine, and David wanted to stop for some reason that I didn’t quite get. I thought he wanted to get some booze or something. And then he got on one knee and proposed, and I was so freaked out by it that I said, “Yes,” but I didn’t know what it meant. Then I got the ring and loved it, and a year later, on Valentine’s Day, I proposed to him in Santa Monica. That was four years ago. The callous on my right hand is long-formed—and not from masturbation. I’m dying to move over to the other hand. I’d also like to call him my husband. I’m not the biggest fan of the word “partner”: It either means that we run a business together or we’re cowboys. “Boyfriend” seems fleeting, like maybe we met two weeks ago. I’ve been saying “better half” for as long as I’ve been able to. I think it’s a little self-deprecating and clearly defines that we’re in a relationship, but it would be nice to say “my husband.”
Children were always talked about, but there was a certain point — when David was in L.A. and I was working on How I Met Your Mother, maybe season two or three — when we both agreed that if we wanted to have kids, we didn’t want to do it super late in the game. We wanted our parents to enjoy the process and to be young and vibrant enough to throw a ball with them, or to chase them around without using a walker. That was the eternal game-changer — now we rarely fight in the big ways. What’s the point? We’re in this for a major long haul.
DAVID BURTKA
I’ve always known I was going to have a monogamous relationship, raise children, and be happy in love. It was the one thing in life that I never doubted for a second. I was in another relationship when I met Neil and was doing the long-distance, New York–to-L.A. thing. It was sort of on the rocks. Long distance is so hard. I was performing in the Sam Mendes version of Gypsy on Broadway when I ran into Neil on the street. He was doing the Mendes version of Cabaret at the time, and I was with a friend who knew him pretty well. I wasn’t a big Doogie Howser fan — I had probably seen it once or twice when I was growing up — so I gave him a, “Hey, what’s up, nice to meet you,” and that was really it. I thought it would be nice to know him, but I didn’t think in a million years I’d start dating him.
We began hanging out with other people, and we had a lunch or so, but nothing romantic. I thought he was adorable, though, with these amazing blue eyes that are just hypnotizing to me. I ended up breaking with my boyfriend, and a week later, Neil and I had a date. We went to see a movie — I think it was Taking Lives with Angelina Jolie. We started hanging out every single night, and after three months, it was just non-stop. We talk on the phone at least eight times a day and text at least 25 times a day. We are, in a way, very codependent. He’s my lifeline, in an amazing way. Without him, I can’t breathe. The biggest thing is that he makes me laugh, but he’s also smart. He can do everything. I’m not kidding; I think he’s half robot. He makes me a little more grounded, and I bring out the wild side in him. Don’t get me wrong — we fight. Our fights last five minutes, then we’re over it. And we’re both Gemini — we have a good twin and a bad twin, and the four of us get along really well!
The first three years was our honeymoon period. Then you settle into the relationship, and it morphs into just living, breathing. It becomes more comfortable, but it becomes a necessity — something you can’t give up, like an addict. How has it changed me? I basically have diarrhea mouth — I am brutally honest to the point of being a negative thing. Now I think more before I speak.
Even on that first date, we talked about kids. If he hadn’t wanted kids, I don’t think we’d be together. I always thought that family was the most important thing in life, and no matter what I do, whether being a chef or an actor or a dancer, being a dad is what I do best. I am the maternal one in the relationship. For the first year, I didn’t miss a nighttime or morning with them. I think it’s important to have other lives and feed your relationship, but it’s also important that your children are raised by you. We named Gideon after an artist we collect, Gideon Rubin, and Harper after Harper Lee. To Kill a Mockingbird is one of our favorite books.
I don’t want people to think we’re a perfect couple. Nothing’s perfect. A relationship is work and it changes. And you go with the changes. It’s more good times than bad times, but it’s not always good. You have to overcome those issues and move on. We have a really great recipe for a wonderful relationship, but we don’t want to be the poster boys for gay relationships. We’re not trying to pretend that we are perfect. We’re just trying — in a good, positive, loving way — to live our lives.
(Source: zeggy)
