Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Bah, Humbug! I need less "Christ" in Christmas!!!

     Before anyone dismisses this post as blashphemy, I will state up front I love Christmas. I love my faith and own it...probably more than ever in my life. I still fervently believe Christ offers a hope to a world lost in its own selfishness and in much need of love and acceptance.
     That being said, I literally need less Christ in my Christmas this year. Since coming out last year, my mother and her relatives have responded to my divorce and subsequent identity as a gay man as something to weep and plead to God for my redemption. In their worldview and theology, I cannot be a gay man and a Christian. My mother lovingly reminded me on Thanksgiving I was "destroying my life" and "securing my place in hell".
     The gifts and cards from my mom and the extended family been arriving. So far I have received a Christian book mark, a Christian journal, a Christian book, a Christian CD, and other "Christian" products. Before coming out as a gay man, I rarely received such proselytizing gifts. Now my living room looks like the Christmas love child of James Dobson and Pat Robertson.
     Although I appreciate the notion of my family remembering me with a gift, I resent these gifts were sent with a not so subtle message. I am offended the spirit of gift giving is tainted with my family's agenda: to rescue me from my "lifestyle", save my soul and win be back to Jesus.
     The irony is on Christmas Eve, when my family will be opening their "secular" gifts and watching stale TV specials, I will be with my partner at our church not for one, but two services and a potlatch. In my family's summary judgement on my personal decision to lead a life of greater integrity their assumption is that I need "saving" all over again.
     On this Christmas holiday I would like to remind my family (as well as any other well meaning but misguided Christians) there is only one Savior I believe in and His work has already been done in my life. It would be better for no one in my family to send me gifts than to use this holiday season to hit me over the head with baby Jesus.
     As I end this blog post I am going to take off my glasses and put them in the Christian eyeglass case my mom sent me recently. She seems to have a knack for finding all things Christ friendly. Maybe for my birthday I'll hit her up for a cross emroidered wallet, some authentic Hebrew sandals and perhaps underwear with "Jesus Saves" across the crotch.

Friday, December 10, 2010

A Bunch of F@#%ING Queens

     I normally do not buy in to stereotypes. Stereotypes have a way of putting people in to a pre-conceived box and have a nasty way of assuming pre-determined behaviors.
     However, some stereotypes exist because they speak to reality. My reality the past week has been multiple rehearsals preparing for the Silicon Valley Gay Men's Chorus opening night tomorrow evening. As a member of the artstic committee my responsibilities for the concert include several staging and logistic considerations. This, of course, is on top of my singing duties as the 1st and 2nd Tenor section leader.
     As part of this reality, enter the bitchy divas known as gay men who sing in choruses. From the first few minutes of rehearsal Monday night to the end of dress rehearsal tonight I had to tolerate somebody whining, complaining or flat out blowing me off.
     In fairness, not every guy in the chorus was giving me grief. But the ones who were were such a pain, so obnoxious and so disrespectful any outsider looking in would assume all gay chorus members are a bunch of spoiled, tempermental queens.
     It has caused my emotional spectrum to range from irritation to being just plain angry. I was given a charge of multiple behind the scenes aspect of our concert because I am 1.) experienced and 2.) willing. As I told one of our men who was complaining because we have incorporated candles for two songs, "Get over it. You want to have a say, volunteer or speak up. Don't wait until the week of the concert to find your opinion."
     I can be bitchy, too. Maybe that makes me a stereotype, but in the prima donna world of gay choruses sometimes the only way to survive is to embrace the stereotype and beat the queens at their own game.

Saturday, December 4, 2010

Awkward is as Awkward Does...

     In my continuing growth in and acceptance of my identity as a gay man, I decided it would be good for me to see what resources are available in the local area for me to find out about the life experiences of other gay men.
     My search led me to the Billy DeFrank Center. It is San Jose's GLBT Community Center. A good friend of mine is a member of the board, and the Center does a lot in the community and has a great reputation for fostering the greater good.
     On the Center's website there is a "Men's Discussion Group" listed. The group meets on Thursdays nights to discuss "relevant" topics pertinent to gay men. I decided I would go this past Thursday and approached with an open mind.
     As 20 other men took their places I noticed I was one of the youngest. The group moderator came in and the meeting started promptly when it should at 7:30 p.m.: so far, so good.
     The moderator acknowledged my presence and had every guy introduce himself in turn. Again, I was impressed. My previous experience leading similar groups allowed me to notice the display of good leadership.
     Next, the moderator opened a large binder with the label "Men's Discussion Group". Very calmly, very non-chalant, the moderator announced the evening's topic.
     "Tonight's discussion topic is Cruising Gyms."
     I about fell out of my chair. Cruising gyms? I was looking forward to maybe a discussion on overcoming gay stereotypes, or addressing homophobia or maybe even a discussion of the upcoming Prop 8 appeal. Nothing prepared me for the topic on how to pursue public sex in a health complex.
     Normally this sort of absurdity would evoke an immediate vocal response. However, a bigger part of me on this evening wanted nothing more than to go grab a bowl of popcorn and watch the train wreck unfold before me.
     Many of the guys stumbled awkwardly around the topic, talking about things "they've seen". However, none of them were talking about what "they've done". After 30 of the most uncomfortable minutes I have ever witnessed someone asked the obvious question.
     "How did we end up with this topic, anyway?"
     Indeed. How does a men's group which is supposed to provide an atmosphere of relatability and free-flowing discussion end up with a topic more appropriate for a porn story line?
     The remaining hour ended up collapsing in to fervent raising of hands and "the regulars" debating how to come up with better topics. For the first time, I literally sat silent for an entire hour and thirty minutes.This has only happened one other time in my life, and it wasn't by choice: I had lost my voice.
     Although my voice was in good working order on this evening, the lack of preparation by the group only ushered my silence and stymied my participation. As a newcomer, the expectations I brought with me set me up for a terrible fall. I had looked forward to the men's group for several days. By the end of the evening I wanted to run into the night beating my chest and shouting chants of freedom.
     Instead, I went home to where my partner was hosting his regular Thursday night game night with some of our close friends. I walked in, told each one how I loved and appreciated his friendship, and proceeded to explain my waste of an evening. I then sat at the table, falling in to easy conversation and fun.
     The evening served as a reminder sometimes what we need is just more of what we already have. I have my own Men's Discussion Group and it consists of my friends I see on a regular basis. They invest in my life and I have learned so much about who I am because of our closeness.
     Just for kicks, I asked my friends if they had any insights or advice on cruising gyms. Resoundingly, each one said, " just don't do it".
     End of discussion...