I. Am. Wally.

I recently received an e-mail from my alma mater (Wabash College), asking me to take a survey on the effectiveness of a program called Linking Education and Alumni Development (L.E.A.D.). At the end, I had to write a brief statement as to how I see myself as an alumnus of the college, what my responsibilities are as a graduate.

It wasn’t something I could just whip up in 30 seconds. I knew I had to put some thought into it because, once I hit reply, that would be it; my words would be etched in “stone.” Even if they would only be used internally, for the evaluation of the L.E.A.D. program, they would serve as an honest and potentially deep reflection of my time at Wabash, and I would have to life with whatever I happened to write. Those would be my official feelings about Wabash, and it seemed a little too soon to be making such an important reflective judgment. I only graduated a year ago.

However, it is only now dawning on me that my perspective of the college will probably change with each passing year, decade, and so on, even if only slightly—and perhaps in ways I might not be able to perceive right now. I guess I have that to look forward to. It’s exciting to think that my life, when I look back on it from any given point after 2009, will ultimately tell me how good my college experience was.

What probably won’t ever change is that I am quite proud of my education and my mature decision to attend the college I did. I think that a great number of young men in my position (senior in high school) probably would not have made the same choice. I say this because Wabash is a rigorous liberal arts school with rather a unique structure; it totally kicked my ass the first semester (mostly academically), maybe even the whole first year. Coming from my high school, with its limited resources, I was not prepared for the workload, the professors, the pressure, or the course contents. I’d rarely had homework in high school because I’d always gotten most of it done at school. At Wabash, I worked almost constantly. Thankfully, I figured out how to balance things better after that first year, but wow, what a ride! I feel comfortable admitting that my G.P.A. started at 3.33 and steadily rose every semester, peaking at 4.0 for two of my final three semesters. The last semester went down a tad, but I managed to graduate magna cum laude with a cumulative 3.71. My B.A. is in English, with a history minor, and I am a member of Phi Beta Kappa (which legitimately shocked me). I think Wabash was very good to me.

As I wrap this up, I want to offer some context. Remember that Wabash men—it’s an all-male college (and no, that didn’t affect my decision to go there, because I didn’t really begin to understand my sexuality until I was already a senior at the college)—are called Wallies and that there is one all-inclusive rule that governs our lives both on and off the campus. The Gentleman’s Rule states that “the student is expected to conduct himself at all times, both on and off the campus, as a gentleman and a responsible citizen.”

So, if you’re wondering what my 2010 perspective was, here’s the statement I wrote for the survey:

Even as a child, I was a lover of knowledge, literature, and technology. At Wabash, my unique college experience served to add new and important layers to these passions. Now, as an alumnus of Wabash College, I am forever bound by the Gentleman’s Rule and by the many life and academic lessons I learned at the college. This cherished Wabash education exists as a foundation for my M.F.A. studies and for my life in general. My job as an alumnus is to ensure that future generations can benefit not only from my knowledge and experiences—and the knowledge and experiences of my fellow Wallies—but also from the values added by my continued contact with, endorsement of, and donation to the esteemed Wabash College.

I. Am. Wally.

Bollywood’s “FIRST” Gay Love Story

When I first saw this, I was a little shocked. Hadn’t there already been gay characters (and kissing) in Indian cinema? Fire was released in 1996, and it features two women who befriend each other and, ultimately, fall in love. It is pretty low-key but still homosexual/bisexual. I’m not sure why it doesn’t count. Maybe it doesn’t count as a Bollywood film.

In any case, Dunno Y…Na Jaane Kyun will be released this May, under the Bollywood banner, about 16 months after the Indian government abolished the archaic anti-gay law. This movie centers around a young Indian man who goes to Mumbai, seeking fame and fortune but instead finding love…with a man. It sounds pretty standard, almost clichéd on a very basic level, but I think the Indian angle will add a lot to it. I hope, anyway. I’d be interested to see how it compares to Fire, which I need to watch again; I haven’t seen it since about 2005.

In other news, we don’t have class today because of the snowstorm; I don’t know about tomorrow yet. They’re still cleaning off the streets and sidewalks. It’s supposed to snow again Tuesday and Wednesday, apparently 10 inches. I may not have class this week, which means I need to keep myself on task!

We Like Boys

Wow. My writing exercise for this week was to do a structural repetition, in which something a character or narrator says or does is repeated or echoed, perhaps in a different context, by different people, or on a different scale. Mine started out boring, but it transformed as I was writing it, from a story about two sexually-charged daughters and their mother into a story about a mother who was raped when she was younger and a son (hers) who is coming out of the closet. Still not very original, but I like it so much better than what I started with. I call it

In 1984, Suzy Salinger had been a rambunctious 16-year-old, but not really one to get herself into trouble. Nevertheless, she had gotten into trouble on that particular November afternoon when she had finally stood up to her mom about dating.

“What can I say, mother?” she had said. “Boys just like me!” And then she had smirked and received a slap across the face and instructions to go to her room. Furious, she had sneaked out her bedroom window that night, for the first time ever, to meet up with an older boy who had said he liked her. And that night, he had raped her.

Twice.

Thinking back on this night, Suzy now began a dialogue with her 15-year-old son, Chad, about respecting women and dating. If things went well, she might even bring up sex. And things did go well because Chad swore he had the utmost respect for women and didn’t think he was ready to date anyone yet, male or female.

“Excuse me?” Suzy said, and picked at her ear. “What did you say?”

“Mom…I like boys. Maybe even…just boys.” Chad looked at his feet, and Suzy saw his face turn crimson.

Shocked as she was, she knew this was 2009, when being gay was almost okay. She worried that rejecting his sexuality now would make her lose him forever, and besides, she was a pretty cool mom, wasn’t she? She could handle this. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but cry a little; she had to grieve the loss of that heterosexual life she had subconsciously envisioned for him all these years. A beautiful wife. Two-point-five naturally conceived children. Low chances of contracting HIV. An aversion to that shitty pop music—Beyoncé, she remembered—and to the color pink, which even she, a woman, a straight woman, hated with a passion.

But wait. Now she was being unfair and buying into stereotypes. Chad was still Chad, and this wasn’t going to change his personality and tastes. At least, she didn’t think so. She stepped closer to him and put both hands on his head, one on each side. She tilted his face up toward hers and kissed his forehead.

“I was going to talk about sex after all that, but you caught me off-guard,” she said, and smiled. She looked into his eyes, and he smiled back. “I liked boys too when I was your age, of course, and I need to tell you where that got me one night because you need to know what boys can do. And why you don’t have a dad.” She swallowed hard, and then continued: “First of all, you need to remember that you have the right to say no, and it always, absolutely means no. Okay?”

Then Suzy and her gay son sat down to have a serious talk about sex. And boys. And to her great surprise, it was the best conversation they’d ever had.

Wild Things and Firings

Read this article, this disgustingly inappropriate, judgmental, and libelous piece of journalism, and then click on the Feedback link at the top and request that Jan Moir be fired and her editors reprimanded and/or fired. A man died, and she demonizes him and everything he stands for in this article. It’s inexcusable, no matter what her opinion his, and in publishing this, she fails as a responsible journalist.

I’d say the same even if this were John McCain or anyone else I might happen to disagree with. Because I believe in HUMAN rights and respect. Ugh. This is sick.

In other news, I’m going to see Where the Wild Things Are tonight, and I’m super excited. I LOVED the book as a kid, and I can’t wait to see everything moving before me, all movielike. 🙂

Will blog about it, too, of course!

No on 1 in Maine!

I just wanted to post this to help get the word out: Today is the LAST day to contribute to the No on 1 campaign that will fight to save marriage equality in Maine. Early voting on Proposition 1 starts tomorrow, and if things don’t turn out the way the current polls are going, marriage equality will be striken from yet another state. Even now, though, the lead is not by much, so please contribute if you can, to get more support out there; and if you can’t contribute, at least pass the word, and tell people to vote no on Prop 1 if they live in Maine.

None of this is about religion; it’s about the American ideals set forth in the Constitution, which says that we are all equal. And in much the same way that we have come to accept African Americans as part of that, and other groups, we can accept our GLBT brothers and sisters as well. There’s really no difference, and it’s no one’s business how GLBT community members live their lives anyway. They deserve the right to be happy and care for one another. Just let people marry who they want because it won’t harm you one bit. It really won’t.

I couldn’t give much, but even $25 adds up when a lot of people send it. 😉

Here is how the money will be spent: http://gay.americablog.com/2009/10/moneybomb-for-maine-help-us-hit-11.html

And here is a link to contribute: http://www.actblue.com/page/americablogsupportsmainemarriage

Cocky Jock and the Pansexual Nobody Nerd

My writing exercise for this week’s Fiction class was to “steal a plot.” Specifically, we had to take a legend, fable, or short short and rewrite it—making it for an adult audience, if it was originally meant for kids. I choose to do the tortoise and the hare, changing the tortoise into a high school nerd and the hare into a God’s-gift jock. No hard feelings, of course. I was just having fun with it. 😉

Any comments and criticisms would be appreciated and duly noted.

I call this 704-word story (or at least this draft)

There once was a nimble-footed, silk-wearing high school jock—we’ll call him Cocky—who was always bragging about his God-given sex appeal and speed. For years, the intellectually nimble nerd—the nobody—had listened to the boasting, but one day, he decided no more: He challenged the jock to a ten-mile race around the school’s cross country track, in front of anyone who would watch. And every student came to see the nerd lose to the obviously superior jock. But it was the principle of the thing that mattered, and the nerd was a young man of principles. He would race, no matter what.

A gun went off to signal that the race had begun, and the nobody nerd watched helplessly as Cocky the jock pulled ahead of him in the first ten seconds. No matter, he told himself; he could still win, and even if not, he would never quit, not against this jackass. He kept running, and before long, he came upon a boy, whom he had never met before and who started running to keep up with him.

“Hi,” the boy said, panting. “This is really brave of you.”

The nerd said hi, and from there the two carried on a wonderful conversation about high school politics, sexual orientation, and gender equality, but they soon realized that there was no spark between them; they were not compatible as lovers. They would, of course, remain close friends. Not long after parting ways with the boy, the nerd happened upon a beautiful girl, whom he had never met before and who also ran with him and talked about deep, important subjects before realizing that she wanted something else in a boyfriend; the nerd felt the same way, and the two parted ways with a hug. The nerd kept running as fast as he could go, which was to say not all that fast, and he soon met another interesting boy to explore.

Meanwhile, the jock was two miles ahead before he realized that he could not even see the nerd behind him. He stopped when he saw a hot blonde with large breasts sitting on the side of the track, crying. The nerd was way behind. What could a fifteen-minute break hurt?

“Hey baby,” he said, and smiled his gorgeous, cocky smile.

The blonde looked up and, despite her sourpuss, smiled back. The jock spent thirty seconds cheering the girl up, and then asked if he could fuck her. She told him yes, and he had his way with her, and then moved on down the path, running once more, the top button of his silk shirt now undone. Before long, he came upon another beauty and had sex with her as well. He started running again when he was dressed, save for the top two buttons of his silk shirt, but before he could go half a mile, he met another bombshell. What a lucky day! He stopped to have his way with this girl, too. But when he got back on the path, his silk shirt forgotten on the side of the road, he realized that he was getting drowsy and achy, and he saw a small, blackish red blob on his bare chest. He ignored it. With thirty steps to the finish line, he collapsed and died, yellow crust forming on his lips.

After meeting a beautiful girl and two cute boys, the nerd eventually caught up to another girl on the track, and the two struck up a conversation. They each realized that they shared similar values and opinions, that they were attracted to one another, and most importantly, that there was a spark between them. Together, they crossed the finish line, where they asked the school slut for a condom and went behind the bushes to make passionate love.

It was an hour before they were done and the nerd realized that he had won, that the jock had never even crossed the finish line. In fact, Cocky had died of rapidly-progressing complications from a sexual infection, a little gift given to him by his God-given sex appeal and speed. The jock boasted no more.

And the nerd was in love.

In D.C. – The National Equality March

As I said in my previous post, I went to Washington D.C. this weekend with my friend Lori to march for GLBT equality. And it was amazing.

Going in, I had no idea what to expect. I didn’t know how many people would be there or how they would be reacting. I didn’t know what the police would be like or how such a march would be coordinated. Would it be chaotic? A riot? Would I have to fight to stay on my feet and avoid being trampled to death? How easy would it be to stay with my group of four (myself and three others)?

I was pleasantly surprised when my group got downtown. I saw facets and sights I hadn’t really seen, or in some cases considered, before this weekend. I saw groups of people on the Metro carrying colorful signs (and some were colorful in the literary sense of the word; but I’ll leave them to your imagination). 😉 Lesbians leaning on their partners’ shoulders, gay men with their arms around one another. On the Metro! In the streets! It seemed so simple and felt like it should have always been that way.

However, it’s not always that way. People are afraid to be who they are, for fear of persecution, but today was our day, the day for gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders, and GLBT supporters to come out in droves and give one another the courage to be who we all are. The courage to fight for rights we have so long wanted but never been able to have. And for some of us, the courage to fight for rights we don’t necessarily need for ourselves but know others deserve, rights that have long been denied (and for no good reason).

When the march got underway, I found most of the answers to my questions rather quickly. It was anything but a riot. It was a little chaotic because there were so many people, but that was the only reason. Police were cooperating. They were there to help us, protect us, and it felt wonderful to have that support. While we had been crowded pretty close together before the march started, once we were walking, we could spread out nicely. There was no real danger of being trampled, thankfully. Christmas shoppers could learn a thing or two from this group of queers and queer supporters. 🙂

When we finally got to the Capitol building, two young men spoke; I think both of them were teenagers, still in high school or maybe just out of high school. One was straight, and the other was gay. Both young men spoke with an eloquence I could never dream of having, especially at such a young age. Even now, I envy them. I envy their courage to speak to hundreds of thousands of people—but more importantly, I envy their courage to speak up on something as important and dividing as GLBT issues. I couldn’t have done it at their respective ages. I’m still not sure I could today.

We also listened to speeches by the organizers of the event, a particularly powerful one by the head organizer. Cynthia Nixon, an award-winning actress perhaps best known for her role as Miranda on Sex and the City, even showed up to march and gave a rousing oratory on fighting for equality and on her own struggle to marry her partner of almost five years. Judy Shepard, mother of hate crime victim Matthew Shepard, spoke to us as she has spoken to many GLBT/supporters over the years. Lady Gaga marched (and may have performed, but if she did, I wasn’t there by that point). Kristin Chenoweth tweeted that she marched as well; I would have loved to have seen her and congratulated her on her well deserved Emmy.

After I left the rally, I checked Twitter on my iPhone because I hadn’t been able to get an Internet connection during the rally. Preliminary guesses put the crowd at 100,000 to 150,000, most likely more. When I saw this, I remembered a moment about thirty minutes into the rally when someone announced that we were still seven blocks deep, even with all the people that had already arrived on the Capitol mall. Seven blocks deep, thirty minutes into the rally! Insane.

Thinking back on the day, I am not in the least surprised that the openness continued throughout the day; even on Metro ride back, people were holding each other. Safety in numbers, perhaps, and there were plenty of those to go around today. But I wonder…tomorrow, will D.C. show any signs of GLBT life? Will there be a man holding his partner in public? A woman? Will GLBT America go back into the closet tomorrow, or will it stay out and continue the fight? Perhaps one of the most memorable and poignant moments from today comes to mind now: to get into the rally, many of us had to climb, literally, over a stone wall.

If that isn’t symbolic, I don’t know what is. The National Equality March was a new kind of Stonewall, a protest for a newer generation; and I hope the feeling lasts months, if not years. Or forever.

GLBT America (and the world) deserves it.

Going to D.C.

I’m waiting for my friend Lori to get off work so she can tell me if we’re leaving tonight or waiting until tomorrow morning; but in any case, I’m going to Washington D.C. this weekend for the equality march, and I’m pretty excited! She had mentioned her plans before, and then we were talking about it on Facebook today and she asked me if I wanted to go. So I had a choice: homework and TV all weekend or a momentous occasion and a lot of fun.

I’m going to Washington D.C. 😉

Apparently, a couple of friends from Indiana are going to be there, so I might give them a call/text. I was also secretly hoping to run into Alex, since I haven’t seen (or really even talked to) him for over a month. I miss him, and it would be great to see him this weekend, but then he’s also pretty busy with school. Which is why we haven’t really talked lately. Which is why I would almost be kind of angry if he suddenly had time for me if I were suddenly in D.C.

Almost.