I have happy tears from this gem at A Practical Wedding about the power we all have to teach young people about equality.
Unfortunately, four-year-olds are not the only folks who could use some education about these issues. We all have opportunities to educate: family-to-family, friend-to-friend, colleague-to-colleague. In social work and public health, we talk a lot about Action Steps. These are specific efforts identified to help reach a goal, and they help us move forward without getting overwhelmed by the big picture.
I'd like to invite you all to challenge yourself to think of a few ways you can have an impact on someone's perspective. Maybe it's forwarding an article to an ambivalent relative, donating to PFLAG, reaching out to legislators to encourage them to support equality, canvassing for the 2012 election (dear god, please do that). Consider using the word "partner" to refer to your significant other. Try calling out the douche behind you in line who calls his friend "gay". (I've found that "I'm gay and I find that extremely offensive" is quite effective for making them shake in their docksides. By the way, if you're uncomfortable calling yourself gay, ask yourself why.)
LGBTQ folks have been yelling about these things for years. We've gotten a lot done, but we can only get so far on our own. Please consider pushing through the awkward and doing something small. Those moments make a difference.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Non-Douchey Gay-Related Correspondence: A Primer
Sometimes, discussing politically-charged topics can be intimidating. These days, the world is so politically correct that it seems we're not allowed to say anything at all! Everyone has a right to free speech, and more traditional/conservative perspectives are being silenced by my gay agenda. I understand that, and I feel just terrible.
In an effort to save you from the extreme discomfort of being called out as as insensitive, close-minded, or homophobic, I'd like to provide some guidance on statements to avoid when talking to a gay like myself.
Scenario One
You are a professional photographer specializing in wedding photography. Your website is a gorgeous testament to your talent for capturing love--photo after photo of beautiful brides and grooms exchanging vows, signing licenses and beginning their life together. A potential client emails you to compliment your work and ask about your stance on marriage equality.
Avoid: "Thank you for your interest in Heteronormative Photography! We would love to provide you with memories that will last a lifetime. We made money off of, erm, i mean, photographed a same-sex wedding a few years ago, so that's no problem."
Avoid: "Thank you for your interest in Heteronormative Photography! We would love to provide you with memories that will last a lifetime. In terms of marriage equality...what can I say? I have several gay friends. I guess it's just a no-brainer! Anyway...=)...so I attached a PDF of my pricing..."
Try: "Thank you for your interest in Heteronormative Photography! We would love to provide you with memories that will last a lifetime. I am so glad that you contacted us. I am a longstanding supporter of marriage equality--love is love, and I am supportive of all committed couples having access to the same rights and protections. I recognize the importance of putting my money where my mouth is, so I'd love to photograph your wedding and use the resulting photos to make my business more inclusive and welcoming to LGBTQ couples."
Scenario Two
You are, amazingly, a presidential candidate. Your husband makes thousands of dollars a year by exploiting LGBTQ youth and selling them the lie that they can change their sexual orientation through therapy. Someone dares to ask you about this in an interview.
Avoid: "You know, these are not the things that America cares about right now. Americans want jobs and a stable economy. I'm not going to discuss those issues that are irrelevant to Americans. And by the way, I'd also like to make sure that the kids who end up dead or on the street because of my husband's malpractice and my hateful rhetoric have no access to health care or social programs."
Try: "Yeah, that's fucked up."
Scenario Three
You are a very conservative, very religious woman. One of your family members tells you that they are getting gay married.
Avoid: "From what you've said, it seems the only acceptable action on my part would be to endorse and celebrate homosexuality. That will not happen. I don't know how you can say I have the right to believe as I want, and that you don't want to be unaccepting of anyone, and then say you are unable to gloss over my decision to not attending your wedding. Also, I remember those times that you came to my church to support me even though you think the pastors are batshit crazy and offensive. I'm still not coming to your wedding though. I don't want to endorse homosexuality."
Try: "I understand that there's a difference between not accepting someone's identity and not accepting someone's hurtful statements about your identity. I understand that you have the right be who you are, and that I don't have the right to be an ass about that. Because I passed fourth grade."
I hope you find these suggestions helpful for navigating encounters with the gays. Stay tuned for the inevitable Part Two to this guide.
In an effort to save you from the extreme discomfort of being called out as as insensitive, close-minded, or homophobic, I'd like to provide some guidance on statements to avoid when talking to a gay like myself.
Scenario One
You are a professional photographer specializing in wedding photography. Your website is a gorgeous testament to your talent for capturing love--photo after photo of beautiful brides and grooms exchanging vows, signing licenses and beginning their life together. A potential client emails you to compliment your work and ask about your stance on marriage equality.
Avoid: "Thank you for your interest in Heteronormative Photography! We would love to provide you with memories that will last a lifetime. We made money off of, erm, i mean, photographed a same-sex wedding a few years ago, so that's no problem."
Avoid: "Thank you for your interest in Heteronormative Photography! We would love to provide you with memories that will last a lifetime. In terms of marriage equality...what can I say? I have several gay friends. I guess it's just a no-brainer! Anyway...=)...so I attached a PDF of my pricing..."
Try: "Thank you for your interest in Heteronormative Photography! We would love to provide you with memories that will last a lifetime. I am so glad that you contacted us. I am a longstanding supporter of marriage equality--love is love, and I am supportive of all committed couples having access to the same rights and protections. I recognize the importance of putting my money where my mouth is, so I'd love to photograph your wedding and use the resulting photos to make my business more inclusive and welcoming to LGBTQ couples."
Scenario Two
You are, amazingly, a presidential candidate. Your husband makes thousands of dollars a year by exploiting LGBTQ youth and selling them the lie that they can change their sexual orientation through therapy. Someone dares to ask you about this in an interview.
Avoid: "You know, these are not the things that America cares about right now. Americans want jobs and a stable economy. I'm not going to discuss those issues that are irrelevant to Americans. And by the way, I'd also like to make sure that the kids who end up dead or on the street because of my husband's malpractice and my hateful rhetoric have no access to health care or social programs."
Try: "Yeah, that's fucked up."
Scenario Three
You are a very conservative, very religious woman. One of your family members tells you that they are getting gay married.
Avoid: "From what you've said, it seems the only acceptable action on my part would be to endorse and celebrate homosexuality. That will not happen. I don't know how you can say I have the right to believe as I want, and that you don't want to be unaccepting of anyone, and then say you are unable to gloss over my decision to not attending your wedding. Also, I remember those times that you came to my church to support me even though you think the pastors are batshit crazy and offensive. I'm still not coming to your wedding though. I don't want to endorse homosexuality."
Try: "I understand that there's a difference between not accepting someone's identity and not accepting someone's hurtful statements about your identity. I understand that you have the right be who you are, and that I don't have the right to be an ass about that. Because I passed fourth grade."
I hope you find these suggestions helpful for navigating encounters with the gays. Stay tuned for the inevitable Part Two to this guide.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
We Hold These Truths to Be Self-Evident
Please read this important post at my favorite blog, A Practical Wedding.
I'm lucky enough to work for a health system that does include sexual orientation in its non-discrimination statement, but Linds does not have that protection. Neither does my sister. Neither do thousands of other gays in this state who are not protected from employment discrimination, housing discrimination, and hate-based violence.
Privilege check.
I'm lucky enough to work for a health system that does include sexual orientation in its non-discrimination statement, but Linds does not have that protection. Neither does my sister. Neither do thousands of other gays in this state who are not protected from employment discrimination, housing discrimination, and hate-based violence.
Privilege check.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Finding a Photographer is Harder Than Finding a Wife
Linds and I have about 14 months until the wedding. Tons of time, yes. But we are quickly learning that in the crazy wedding world, things book 18 months in advance. So now that we have a venue and a caterer, the next big hire to tackle is the photographer.
This sounds like it should be simple, right? Wrong. Apparently I am the worst combination of picky and budget-conscious, because all of the photographers I like are crazy expensive.
Here's what we're looking for in a photographer, in order of importance:
1) Supportive of marriage equality. Verbally and emotionally.
2) A photojournalistic, candid-focused style
3) Reliable and accountable (with references)
4) Nice!
5) Experience with same-sex weddings
Unfortunately, every photographer I've encountered who hits all of these points is charging upwards up $2,500 for their services (as they should! they're super talented). And we may end up having to just bite the bullet and pay that much. But I'm still hoping to find a gem who is all of these things for less money.
And so I throw it out to you, social network. Any ideas?
This sounds like it should be simple, right? Wrong. Apparently I am the worst combination of picky and budget-conscious, because all of the photographers I like are crazy expensive.
Here's what we're looking for in a photographer, in order of importance:
1) Supportive of marriage equality. Verbally and emotionally.
2) A photojournalistic, candid-focused style
3) Reliable and accountable (with references)
4) Nice!
5) Experience with same-sex weddings
Unfortunately, every photographer I've encountered who hits all of these points is charging upwards up $2,500 for their services (as they should! they're super talented). And we may end up having to just bite the bullet and pay that much. But I'm still hoping to find a gem who is all of these things for less money.
And so I throw it out to you, social network. Any ideas?
Thursday, July 21, 2011
The Ties that Bind
Last week, I was (kind of) enjoying a tempeh reuben at Arbor Brewing Co. when I recieved an email on my Blackberry that was probably the most effective buzzkill (literally) of my life. Most emails that I receive about our wedding result either in giddy elation (YAY!!!! WE CAN HAVE FONDUE AT THE COCKTAIL HOUR!!!) or frustration/rage (Really? If we don't hire a videographer we're going to regret it for the rest of our lives and not remember our wedding? Really.). But this particular email resulted only in tears, leaving me in a dark place over a week later. It contained the announcement that a close relative will not be attending the wedding, as it goes against her beliefs. It also contained the not-at-all-contradictory closing line: "I hope you'll accept me as I've accepted you."
This email was in response to my email announcing that Lindsey and I are getting married. This email was the latest installment in a year-long struggle after finally coming out to her, years after everyone else. This email flew in the face of the direction I thought we were heading in--progress. We had been talking about getting together for dinner, the three of us, so that she could meet Lindsey and we could begin rebuilding our relationship. I thought that 15 months would be enough for her to come around. I thought she would see Lindsey and I together and be forced to start reconsidering her beliefs. I thought she would attend the wedding, be uncomfortable, and put on a smile. I thought we had time.
But without even meeting Lindsey, without seeing me face-to-face in over a year, without any dialogue or discussion, she made her decision. We haven't even sent out Save the Dates yet, and she's already decided not to attend. It's clear that there's no hope there, and that she's already closed her mind and her heart to the possibility of participating in such a beautiful and important event.
And the shittiest part? I'm not even angry. Those who know me know how shocking that is. I don't have even one ember of rage in me to fan, to make the sadness less palpable. All I feel is hurt and anxiety. How could I possibly continue a relationship with her after this? How could I ever see her again and make small talk and pretend that everything's okay? Am I going to have to essentially cut ties with an entire side of my family? She's the only one I see more than once a year as is, and I can't imagine attending family functions with all of that tension on the table, even if everyone else is supportive (which is yet to be determined). How will this affect my immediate family? What would my mom think?
Unfortunately, Lindsey is bearing the brunt of this grieving period. The poor woman can't go a night without talking me down from a crying spell or an anxiety attack. She tells me I'm not crazy, she insists that it's okay to feel awful even though I have it so good, she lets me watch dumb TV because it makes me feel better, and she makes me laugh. God, does she make me laugh. So even though things feel so shaky right now, I'm grateful. I have a partner who makes the worst days bearable, and who loves me enough to sign up for a lifetime of my unique brand of crazy. That's a tie that's not going anywhere.
(So suck it, haters.)
This email was in response to my email announcing that Lindsey and I are getting married. This email was the latest installment in a year-long struggle after finally coming out to her, years after everyone else. This email flew in the face of the direction I thought we were heading in--progress. We had been talking about getting together for dinner, the three of us, so that she could meet Lindsey and we could begin rebuilding our relationship. I thought that 15 months would be enough for her to come around. I thought she would see Lindsey and I together and be forced to start reconsidering her beliefs. I thought she would attend the wedding, be uncomfortable, and put on a smile. I thought we had time.
But without even meeting Lindsey, without seeing me face-to-face in over a year, without any dialogue or discussion, she made her decision. We haven't even sent out Save the Dates yet, and she's already decided not to attend. It's clear that there's no hope there, and that she's already closed her mind and her heart to the possibility of participating in such a beautiful and important event.
And the shittiest part? I'm not even angry. Those who know me know how shocking that is. I don't have even one ember of rage in me to fan, to make the sadness less palpable. All I feel is hurt and anxiety. How could I possibly continue a relationship with her after this? How could I ever see her again and make small talk and pretend that everything's okay? Am I going to have to essentially cut ties with an entire side of my family? She's the only one I see more than once a year as is, and I can't imagine attending family functions with all of that tension on the table, even if everyone else is supportive (which is yet to be determined). How will this affect my immediate family? What would my mom think?
Unfortunately, Lindsey is bearing the brunt of this grieving period. The poor woman can't go a night without talking me down from a crying spell or an anxiety attack. She tells me I'm not crazy, she insists that it's okay to feel awful even though I have it so good, she lets me watch dumb TV because it makes me feel better, and she makes me laugh. God, does she make me laugh. So even though things feel so shaky right now, I'm grateful. I have a partner who makes the worst days bearable, and who loves me enough to sign up for a lifetime of my unique brand of crazy. That's a tie that's not going anywhere.
(So suck it, haters.)
Thursday, July 7, 2011
How My Mom Paid for Cobblestone
This story begins a few weeks ago, on the night my family celebrated Linds' birthday, when my dad brought my mail that had been sent to his house. I rolled my eyes and sighed, because this usually means I paid a parking ticket late and the City of Ann Arbor is writing to gouge me a little bit more. But this time was different--the envelope was from Israel Bonds Direct. What?
At home later that night I used google to decode all of the financial jargon, and realized several things:
1) My mom had purchased an Israel Bond for me, in both of our names, in 1996
2) It was reaching maturity on July 1st
3) Someone was going to mail me a check for $900
Clearly, this was exciting news. I'll spare you the details of the awkward, depressing, lengthy process of removing her name from the account (tip: avoid carrying your mom's death certificate around for a week. it's weird.) and just skip to...
a few days ago, at my weekly sit-down with Linds to go over our budget. We were discussing how to re-allocate money in order to pay off the balance on one of my credit cards, which holds only the rental fee for our reception venue (Cobblestone Farm). We decided to just use the bond redemption check, since it's almost the exact amount as the cost of renting the space.
Then last night, when I glanced at my mom's picture hanging in our "living room", I was hit over the head with a sense of faith in the universe, and her memory, and her spirit. I didn't know this bond existed until three weeks ago, which was almost exactly a month after we booked Cobblestone. The bond just happens to be for nearly the exact amount as the rental fee. The bond that my mom bought, in both of our names.
Sorry, but even this humanist only-marginally-spiritual lady can't write that off. I am overwhelmed with a feeling of connectedness with her. We've been thinking about ways to include her and honor her in the wedding, and I'm sure those will be beautiful and meaningful. But this surprise? Amazing.
At home later that night I used google to decode all of the financial jargon, and realized several things:
1) My mom had purchased an Israel Bond for me, in both of our names, in 1996
2) It was reaching maturity on July 1st
3) Someone was going to mail me a check for $900
Clearly, this was exciting news. I'll spare you the details of the awkward, depressing, lengthy process of removing her name from the account (tip: avoid carrying your mom's death certificate around for a week. it's weird.) and just skip to...
a few days ago, at my weekly sit-down with Linds to go over our budget. We were discussing how to re-allocate money in order to pay off the balance on one of my credit cards, which holds only the rental fee for our reception venue (Cobblestone Farm). We decided to just use the bond redemption check, since it's almost the exact amount as the cost of renting the space.
Then last night, when I glanced at my mom's picture hanging in our "living room", I was hit over the head with a sense of faith in the universe, and her memory, and her spirit. I didn't know this bond existed until three weeks ago, which was almost exactly a month after we booked Cobblestone. The bond just happens to be for nearly the exact amount as the rental fee. The bond that my mom bought, in both of our names.
Sorry, but even this humanist only-marginally-spiritual lady can't write that off. I am overwhelmed with a feeling of connectedness with her. We've been thinking about ways to include her and honor her in the wedding, and I'm sure those will be beautiful and meaningful. But this surprise? Amazing.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Visibility and The Dress
When Linds and I started to talk about getting married, I had a really hard time visualizing myself in a white dress. In fact, by the time we got engaged, I was adamantly opposed to wearing one. I never wear white. I've never been particularly comfortable in white. I'm most definitely not a "virgin" (maybe someday I'll write a post about my disdain for that word), and I am very turned off by the historical context of the White Wedding Dress. Furthermore, I effing love purple and wear it most days. Eggplant, my favorite shade of purple, would also look amazing against our fall theme with lots of orange and yellow accents. I haven't really started dress shopping yet, but whenever someone asks "What are you going to wear?", I've been answering "PURPLE! No wedding dress for me. Gross."
Well. Something very surprising happened last night while Linds and I were at a U of M School of Social Work reunion. The party had moved to Babs, a swanky (relatively speaking) bar downtown. We were sitting right next to the entrance, which is down a long flight of stairs from the street. Around midnight (I know, I was out until midnight. Crazy.), a woman in our group announced that some people who were trying to join us were stuck outside and had been told that no one else would be admitted until a bridal party with a reservation arrived. This definitely piqued my interest, and I spent the next ten minutes glancing at the door every few seconds in anticipation of seeing the group and what they were wearing. They finally began streaming in and I saw that the bridesmaids were dressed in EGGPLANT. I was thrilled, and unabashedly stared them down in an attempt to make out the details. After a two minute lull in the procession, a fellow bar patron opened the door to leave for the night and shrieked "Ohmygod, THERE'S A BRIDE!!!!". Everyone in our section of the bar turned to look, and when the bride walked through the doors (looking quite uncomfortable, I might add) the entire bar started clapping and cheering for her. I watched her move through the room as women (yes, 100% true in this case) at table after table turned to see her and pointed her out to their friends. And then I was tearing up. And frantically trying to stop. "Am I drunk? What the hell is going on?". I began to social work myself (clinical training = blessing and curse). "Diana, what feeling words are associated with your tears? Where are you feeling the sadness in your body? Can you pull out a cognition for me?" And eventually, there it was: "I want that too."
Then, panic. "Holy shit, Diana. You are a disgrace to all gay women and all liberals and all feminists. How could you want to wear a white dress? How could you be so shallow? You need to be ON. You need to send a MESSAGE...with EGGPLANT." You need, you should, you need. Etc, etc, etc.
Then I looked up and saw Linds, and I landed back in reality. I forgave myself, and smiled, and texted Laura: "I just had a breakthrough at Babs...I want to wear white."
Now let's be clear, before I go any further. Do I want an entire bar of strangers cheering for me? Absolutely not. But do I want people to look at me and know I'm a bride? Yes. Yes I do.
As a gay woman on the femme side of the spectrum, I struggle constantly with visibility. It really bothers me that people assume that I'm straight when they look at me. That may be difficult to understand, but it's difficult to explain--particularly in a blog post. Visibility is important to me, and I realized last night that our wedding will be no exception. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I do want to be recognized as a bride. I'm not even sure why, other than the obvious and shallow. But what I am trying to repeat to myself is that I deserve whatever experience I want on that day. I don't need to saddle myself with the pressure of The Big Gay Counterculture Non-White Wedding (and by the way, I've seen pictures of close to a hundred gay lady weddings--and the vast majority involve a white dress).
So. I'll be wearing a white dress, with lots of eggplant accessories. Please don't judge me.
Well. Something very surprising happened last night while Linds and I were at a U of M School of Social Work reunion. The party had moved to Babs, a swanky (relatively speaking) bar downtown. We were sitting right next to the entrance, which is down a long flight of stairs from the street. Around midnight (I know, I was out until midnight. Crazy.), a woman in our group announced that some people who were trying to join us were stuck outside and had been told that no one else would be admitted until a bridal party with a reservation arrived. This definitely piqued my interest, and I spent the next ten minutes glancing at the door every few seconds in anticipation of seeing the group and what they were wearing. They finally began streaming in and I saw that the bridesmaids were dressed in EGGPLANT. I was thrilled, and unabashedly stared them down in an attempt to make out the details. After a two minute lull in the procession, a fellow bar patron opened the door to leave for the night and shrieked "Ohmygod, THERE'S A BRIDE!!!!". Everyone in our section of the bar turned to look, and when the bride walked through the doors (looking quite uncomfortable, I might add) the entire bar started clapping and cheering for her. I watched her move through the room as women (yes, 100% true in this case) at table after table turned to see her and pointed her out to their friends. And then I was tearing up. And frantically trying to stop. "Am I drunk? What the hell is going on?". I began to social work myself (clinical training = blessing and curse). "Diana, what feeling words are associated with your tears? Where are you feeling the sadness in your body? Can you pull out a cognition for me?" And eventually, there it was: "I want that too."
Then, panic. "Holy shit, Diana. You are a disgrace to all gay women and all liberals and all feminists. How could you want to wear a white dress? How could you be so shallow? You need to be ON. You need to send a MESSAGE...with EGGPLANT." You need, you should, you need. Etc, etc, etc.
Then I looked up and saw Linds, and I landed back in reality. I forgave myself, and smiled, and texted Laura: "I just had a breakthrough at Babs...I want to wear white."
Now let's be clear, before I go any further. Do I want an entire bar of strangers cheering for me? Absolutely not. But do I want people to look at me and know I'm a bride? Yes. Yes I do.
As a gay woman on the femme side of the spectrum, I struggle constantly with visibility. It really bothers me that people assume that I'm straight when they look at me. That may be difficult to understand, but it's difficult to explain--particularly in a blog post. Visibility is important to me, and I realized last night that our wedding will be no exception. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I do want to be recognized as a bride. I'm not even sure why, other than the obvious and shallow. But what I am trying to repeat to myself is that I deserve whatever experience I want on that day. I don't need to saddle myself with the pressure of The Big Gay Counterculture Non-White Wedding (and by the way, I've seen pictures of close to a hundred gay lady weddings--and the vast majority involve a white dress).
So. I'll be wearing a white dress, with lots of eggplant accessories. Please don't judge me.
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