“I have very strong Christian beliefs, and personally I have always said when I accepted the Lord, I became more tolerant of others.  I stopped judging people and try to live by the Golden Rule.  This is part of my decision.  I do not believe it is my role to judge others, regardless of my personal beliefs.

“It’s not always easy to do that.  For me personally, I have always believed in traditional marriage between a man and a woman.  That is what I believe, to this day.

“But this issue isn’t about what I believe.  It’s about respecting others, including people who may believe differently than I.  It’s about whether everyone has the same opportunities for love and companionship and family and security that I have enjoyed.

“For as long as I have been alive, living in my country has been about having the freedom to live according to our own personal and religious beliefs, and having people respect that freedom.”

To read more about this, check out the links here and here.

“As he wrote in his note to me, “Oh God, where do I begin?” I know there are people who knew him longer and there are people who may have known him better, but over the last year, and especially the last three months we lived together, EricJames was My Boy, and my heart is broken.
And I will never get over this, but We will get through it.
As much as I would love everything I say today to be cutesy antidotes and sappy remembrances, and there will be those, don’t worry, but there are also some things I need to make sure are said, said out loud, said for him, for all of us.

And I think I’ve gone through every emotion possible in the last week, some more than others, as many of you know from my facebook posts, and right now, I’m a little mad at him. There is a ¼” more bag under my eyes, and that is not a good look on me. And I’m mad that Joan didn’t get rid of all her household stuff in Japan, ‘cause our plan was to get him through his last year at COS and help set him up in a form or apartment at UCLA where he wanted to go to film school, and well, he’d need a rice cooker, and dishes, and bathmats. So now, that stuff is on its way across the ocean only to be packed back up to be given away again.
But really, I am not mad at him, he was My Boy, and even though he was incapable of taking a cup of coffee from the kitchen to the back porch without splashing it onto the dining room floor, he was My Boy, and I am in love with him.

And as much as my head tells me its not my “fault,” that its nobody’s “fault,” I am having a hard time with that still. He was, for lack of a better word, a baby. He was so young, so alive, so strong in so many ways, and in so many ways, utterly defenseless against the hell thrown at him. And while many of us saw that, tried to protect him, basically, he had no defenses.

He didn’t know how to shrug off the torment from bullies. He didn’t know how to reject the condemnations that are ever prevalent in our society. In many ways we, and yes, I mean the collective we, we gave him slogans from t-shirts and videos instead of tools. He hadn’t learned the art of removal or the snap and shoulder shrug or even anger, the defenses many of us had to learn to survive in this hostile world.

Instead, he internalized it, all of it, and really he didn’t understand it. It wasn’t in his nature to understand the hate thrown at him – and that is what killed him.

And he shouldn’t have had to learn those defenses, not yet, not ever.
And it was easy to forget sometimes that he was a young man barely scraping the surface of his potential. He was so smart and so articulate that I sometimes missed the vulnerability and innocence that made him who he was.

The day before he moved in, I emptied the bedroom for him, and this is a story I never even told him, but I emptied the drawers and the closet because I wanted him to move in, not just stay, but live there, and I made his bed, and as a cutesy touch I put a stuffed animal dog I think Joan got me one year for Christmas, on the bed with the fluff pillows, thinking he’d stack them all in the closet when he went to sleep. Instead he walks in the room, sees the stuffed animal, hugs it, and teary-eyed says, “Is this for me?” And of course, I’m like, “Ya.” And you know he slept with the dog every night.

And at that moment I knew we would never be “roommates,” that we were a family. And I do believe we need to create a new lexicon for our chosen family relationships, but pure and simple, we were a family.
And I’m not going to avoid the elephant in the room. All of us were his family, his one and only family. He tells his story better than any of us could in his short film and It Gets Better Project video, but I need it to be spoken out loud – His parents tortured him – there is no other word to describe it. And what he shared in his video was the tip of the iceberg, and that’s only compared with what he shared with me, and I am sure there was more. His parents tortured him by not protecting him from the extensive bullying. His parents tortured him through their relentless, extremist religious teachings. His parents tortured him with shame and intolerance and emotional and physical abuse that most of us can’t even begin to imagine. And yes, I blame them, and not just a little, but for a majority percentage. I’m willing to save a percentage for depression and a percentage for society as a whole and a percentage for us, especially me, but his parents killed him.

By the time he got to us, his real family, he was so injured and so wounded that the triage we provided wasn’t enough. He really was a warrior and many of us really were the MASH doctors trying to patch him up through our love and our friendship, through trips to San Francisco, to Christmas dinners, to rides to events, from mentorships and opportunities and volunteerism and lunches and coffee dates and holding him as he sobbed half-way through Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer – we tried to stop the bleeding and in my heart I know we, all of us, did everything we could, but the wounds from the front-line, his front-line were just too severe. And that is where I am having a hard time accepting this stupid, stupid tragedy.
And we tried to show him what family could be. The giant teddy bear holding the broken heart flowers from my daughter was one of the Christmas presents sent by my parents. In fact, I was a little jealous, my parents sent him more Christmas presents than me, but really, that is what I wanted for Christmas, to see him overwhelmed with positive family tradition, and he was!

But this isn’t just about what I wanted to show him, its more about what he taught me. For example, and for those of you closer to my age than his, did you know there are like a million versions of Lady GaGa’s Edge of Glory and that when played back to back is over 1 ½ hrs long? I got schooled, I had no idea. I learned that over and over and over again. And as much as it may have driven me crazy, I wouldn’t dream of having it any other way. And as all dual or multi-generational households know, it went both ways. The first time he came in joking about my “dance, dance, alternative 80s dance party” and could he tease my bangs – well, I almost beat the boy, but it was fun and we laughed and we teased and we learned volume control from each other.

And I was excited when he started calling me out on my shit – a true sign of family! The last couple weeks before he dies he was relentlessly on me to start my blog and get my shit together to start the “Coming Out, Coming Home” campaign. And as I write this, Icicle Works “Whisper to a Scream” is playing and my take away – My whisper needs to become a Scream!
I have many regrets. I regret I didn’t hug him a thousand more times. But I am ashamed that I didn’t show him more action, that I didn’t scream enough for him, or me or all of us. He thought I had something to say, and I’m not sure that is true, but the fact that I let my own fears stop me from screaming – yes, even more than I already do – that is my biggest regret.

So I am going to scream a little and here is a small part of it. For our youth, it does get better, but it is not a progressive line. It gets better, and then it sucks, and then its just okay for a while, and then it gets amazing, and then your world completely falls apart, and then it gets better again, etc. And a part of me thinks we do our youth a dis-service with the “It gets better message” because yes it does, but not all at once. Its life, good and bad, ups and downs, its life, and really its about finding the keys to the doors and learning to use the tools so it can get better. And really, our responsibility, especially for us that have gotten through some of it, is to teach the tools and extend the hope to find the keys. But the message is hold on! And really, as Robin said Wednesday, its not about waiting for it to get better but actually working to make it get better. So, my second scream is I am done being the “good” gay.

Let me spell out the Gay Agenda, ‘cause really its pretty simple – really, we just want to be left alone, to love our lives, to love and be loved without all the extraneous bullshit, so really, shut up and leave us alone. We want to date and go to school and fall in love and go to work and come home and mow our lawns and do our laundry and worry about our 401ks and cook dinner and raise our kids and see the occasional movie – we really are that boring! And its really no big deal!

Except it is a big deal. Our ability, our right to just simply live our lives is a political issue – and not one of our own making – so maybe its time to Take Back the Gay!

For so long I’ve bought into the idea that if we are “good” gays, people will “like” us and see us as “normal” and we’ll stamp out homophobia one friend, or family member or co-worker at a time. Bullshit!
Segregation wasn’t ended by nice negroes buddying up to Southern gentlemen. Women did not get the right to vote because they were nice and waited for their husbands to give it to them. Hell, the reason there are shade tents and porta-potties in the fields isn’t because workers waited for their bosses to see their humanity.

No, there are still overt racists and misogynists and bigots, and that may never go away, but the difference is people.
People went to court; people sat on the bus; people boycotted; people called out the injustices; people voted and wrote letters; people got arrested; people died. People screamed.

And people fought, and yes, I mean fought to get laws changed – fought to get laws changed before, before the oppressors were ready to change the laws, not the other way around!

And the bigots can keep their beliefs, can express their beliefs, I really don’t care – but legally there are laws to protect people from other people’s beliefs, and in the end, that is what I want as well.

I am done pussy-footing around the “belief” argument. Really, I don’t care if your church or your bible says homos are wrong – by the way, you’re wrong, that isn’t what it says, but really, I don’t care – my legal and civil rights have nothing to do with your beliefs, so sit down and shut up.
We have let the religious right define the gay rights movement, and well, fuck them, I’m Taking Back the Gay!

EricJames loved the political activist in my and encouraged and nurtured it as much as I tried to encourage and nurture him. And I regret it has taken his death to get me off my lazy ass and do some of the things he and I talked about.

And in the spirit of action, I am off the couch. I’m joining the organizations. I’m putting my money where my mouth and my heart is. I’m going to the protests and the meetings. I’m going to vote and write letters to my representatives. I’m willing to be arrested. I’m screaming. And I’m done excusing homophobes, even if they are my family or friends or strangers because it is what they “believe.”

And for me, it is not just through showing people how “normal” we are in the hope that someday they will grant me my civil rights. They are my civil rights and I’m taking them whether they are “ready” or not.
I, we, our kids, My Boy deserves a better world, and I still have breath in my body.”

Posted as written and spoken.

Source: Facebook feed of Robin McGehee

        “In a new Star Wars game, the biggest threat to the empire may be homosexual activists! Hello, I’m Tony Perkins of the Family Research Council in Washington, D.C. In a galaxy not so far far away, Star Wars gamers have already gone to the dark side. The new video game, Star Wars: The Old Republic, has added a special feature: gay relationships. Bioware, the company that developed the game, said it’s launching a same-sex romance component to satisfy some complaints. That surprised a lot of gamers, since Bioware had made it clear in 2009 that “gay” and “lesbian” don’t exist in the Star Wars universe. Since the announcement, homosexuals have been celebrating the news, but parents sure aren’t. On the game’s website, there are more than 300 pages of comments–a lot of them expressing anger that their kids will be exposed to this Star Warped way of thinking. You can join them by logging on and speaking up. It’s time to show companies who the Force is really with!”

I just don’t understand how this man can obsess about gays more than most gays! And it’s a damn video game, give me a break!

Listen to the audio yourself at Right Wing Watch.

Via: Towleroad

Attorney-General Nicola Roxon said in her announcement “It’s a pretty basic thing and that prevents them from benefiting from the laws of another country. So it’s a removal of discrimination rather than the next step, which our Australian Parliament hasn’t yet dealt with.” More on the announcement from ABC here.

I currently reside in Scotland, where I recently completed my PhD in music at The University of Edinburgh.

During my lengthy career as a musician, I have performed extensively as keyboardist in live theatre, including over 400 performances of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s show Cats for the Really Useful Theatre Company directed by Trevor Nunn and Phantom of the Opera for Cameron Mackintosh Limited, as well as musical director for independent productions, such as Frank Holden’s big band in Scotland.

I have worked variously as an orchestrator, composer, conductor, musical director and record producer for many different clients, including Edinburgh University Encounters project, EMI Music, Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Caroline O’Connor, Sir Robert Helpmann, Sir Howard Morrison, and have had my orchestrations performed and recorded live at the Sydney Opera House, the Royal Albert Hall and Garrick Theatre London, Capetown University South Africa, the Hawaiian Theatre Honolulu, the Australian Embassy, New York and the Sala Accademica di Santa Cecilia in Rome.

I have also been orchestrator, associate composer and session conductor for over twenty television documentaries, mini series, feature films and albums which include the Oscar winning Priscilla, Queen of the Desert, Aria award nominee album Cash Landing for EMI Music and the Triple Platinum award winning Australian Broadcasting Corporation album Come In Spinner.  In the process of recording TV and film scores and commercial albums I have conducted studio orchestras including the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra for the film Frauds starring Phil Collins.

For a full account of my professional career and commissions, please refer to the Career Narrative and Portfolio sections of this site.

Ironically enough, it was a fellow gay man who had used the word in an e-mail to yours truly. That started me thinking about the words we use, and the power behind them, both latent and implied.

I was actually quite appalled at the use of the word, and the subsequent attempt to justify its usage. In his mind, it CLEARLY couldn’t ever be mistaken for the word “Gay” even though they are pronounced the same, because naturally only a bigot would assume they were hearing the word “Gay” rather than the less offensive “Ghey”.

A lengthy discussion ensued, and was dropped after we each realized that neither of us were going to change our views on the word. Later that day as I was BARTing home, I saw something staring at me from the seatback in front of me that made me realize once again that homophobia is still very much alive and well.

If we as a community dis-respect ourselves with such language, how can we ever expect outsiders not to?  If we label ourselves, can we expect any less from our straight counterparts?

I’m still not entirely sure what this all means to me, but I do know that I have a newfound sensitivity to hearing our community referred to as “gays” rather than “gay men” as I feel that such behavior makes it easier for us to be marginalized.

Needless to say, the graffiti was promptly removed, but the image will stay with me as a testament to the fact that even here in the Bay area, we still have a long way to go.

He is still registered as a Democrat.

He supported Al Gore quite vocally, along with many other members of his family.

He also ran, twice, as a Democrat, for Mayor of Topeka. (1993 and 1997).

In 1992  he ran in the Democratic Party primary for U.S. Senate. Phelps won 31% of the vote…in a state that runs closed primaries.

For those of you unaware, a closed primary is one in which only those registered to a party can vote. In Kansas the chairman of the political parties may grant registered independents the right to vote in their primary, but an independent can only vote in one primary in any given election, either Democrat or Republican.

So presumably, unless voter fraud is horribly rampant (something liberals, or at least the New York Times opinion page, deny virulently), 31% of Democratic and Independent voters in the state of Kansas believed that Fred Phelps would be a good Senator.

Now I’ll grant you, this is Kansas we are talking about. Part of the Bible Belt, not far from the Bible Belt state I grew up in. On top of that, I know that political feelings vary from state to state. I live in Arizona, where 75% of the liberals are probably more ‘conservative’ in their beliefs than any East Coast conservative.

And they would probably leave East Coast liberals wondering how they belonged to the same political party.

But they are still Democrats.

So what is my point in all of this?

My only point is that hate does not have a political party. Morality does not have a political party.

You can be a registered Democrat and hate gay people, soldiers, the military, America, and anyone who doesn’t fit into your view of how society should be.

And you can be a registered Republican who wants freedom and individual rights, who loves everyone equally for who they are, not who they sleep with, and acts with honor and integrity.

There are differences between how we approach politics, that does not make one side moral and the other immoral.

It makes us different and, despite what some make think, our differences make us stronger.

Democrat does not equal tolerance and compassion.

Not anymore than Republican equals bigot and hate-monger.

That is the realm of our personal beliefs and actions, not the realm of our politics.

Fred Phelps makes that obvious enough.

This day last year, the godfather of the Ugandan gay rights movement, David Kato, was horrifically beaten to death. Over 100 activists and family members publicly gathered in Kampala today, facing hostility and stigma, to remember David on this bitter anniversary.

“We are here to celebrate and thank God for our beloved friend and human rights activist David Kato,” gay rights campaigner and  former Anglican bishop Christopher Senyonjo told the crowd.

From the AFP: “It is not easy when a loved one dies but thanks to all the friends inside and outside Uganda who worked with David … when I get down they lift me up and help me,” said Nalongo Kisule, Kato’s mother. 

While the “Kill The Gays” bill has been stalled, homophobia still runs rampant throughout Uganda. However there is a lot of pressure coming to Africa from the around the world to clean up how they treat their people.

Additionally a documentary about oppression of gays in Uganda ,Call Me Kuchu, raised enough funds through Kickstartr and should help raise awareness at it’s debut in the Berlin Film Festival on February 11th.

Call Me Kuchu – Trailer from Call Me Kuchu on Vimeo.

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Everyone needs a reason to smile, so here’s an awesome It Gets Better music video set to Lady Gaga’s ‘Hair’, produced, directed, and edited by the multi-talented Colton Boettcher!