One Mean Chickadee

Sunday, June 19, 2005

Hint: It's the Gay Part

Once again, the New York Times Magazine provides fertile blog fodder. This week’s controversial cover:




Oh my God, it's . . . lesbians! In a deeply committed relationship! What are they doing? NNNOOOOOOOO . . . . . . .

This is certainly not the first time the Magazine has covered the issue of gay marriage, and frankly, my first thought upon seeing this cover was that it must have been a slow news week. This is a photo from the round of Massachusetts weddings that took place early last year and caused religious conservatives around the country to tremble in fear inside the tiny, fragile shells of ignorance in which they live. Since then, we’ve had numerous debates, referendums, rulings, etc., as well as flocks of blind, bleating-sheep voters turning out in record numbers to protect the perfection that is the straight American family (gack) from the evils of gay marriage. Of course this issue is a key battle in the culture wars, but we haven’t had any pressing new developments lately, have we?

As it turns out, the Magazine article is concerned not with covering recent events in this issue but with probing into the thoughts and motivations of these “you-WILL-live-according-to-MY-beliefs” extremists. Nothing in this article was new to me, but then again, I’ve been morbidly fascinated with the religious right for years and have been reading about them extensively and following their activities closely. I did like the way the article succinctly explained a phenomenon that has been obvious to me all along but may not have occurred to some others, an idea that’s summed up nicely by the article’s title and subtitle:

“What’s Their Real Problem With Gay Marriage? (Hint: It’s Not the Marriage Part)”

The religious righters (RRs) claim they are trying to “save” marriage, an institution they feel is a sacred gift from God to one man and one woman for the purpose of procreation. How concerned are they really, however, about marriage itself? As I’ve pointed out repeatedly, they are not doing anything (and, as far as I know, have never done anything) to try to prevent marriage between atheists, agnostics, heathens, pagans, wiccans, satanists, or any other non-Judeo-Christian pairs of people, as long as the people are the correct gender. If marriage is a gift from God, why should nonbelievers be allowed to partake? Similarly, no one, before they are allowed to marry, is made to sign a form stating they will do their best to try to have or adopt children—intentionally childless heterosexual marriages, while perhaps not yet garnering full societal approval, are certainly legal. [None of this is really covered in the article, by the way—these are my own musings.]

The answer to “What’s Their Real Problem With Gay Marriage?” is . . . the gay part.

The article does a nice job of showing how the whole anti-gay marriage crusade is a convenient way for the RRs* to gay-bash without appearing to gay-bash. (The RRs pretty much admit this in the article.) In the public’s eye, they’re just fighting to save their “sacred institution,” after all. (You know, the one where Britney Spears can get smashed in Vegas and marry some equally smashed idiot for about 20 minutes. God’s fine with that. Two lesbians who have been together for 18 years and have four children? Their marriage would be an abomination.)

Also, some parts of the article fascinated and/or amused me greatly. For example:

· The director of state legislative relations for Concerned Women for America is Michael Bowman; the director of the Culture and Family Institute of Concerned Women for America is Robert Knight. (Is anyone surprised that two prominent leaders of this high-profile conservative women’s group are . . . men?)

· I was introduced to the most quotable anti-gay activist ever—Brian Racer, a very active pastor in Maryland. Some of his gems:

''The Hebrew words for male and female are actually the words for the male and female genital parts. . . . The male is the piercer; the female is the pierced.” (That doesn’t sound very pleasant at all, nor does it sound very hygienic. Are alcohol swabs involved? Actually, for women, the idea of gay sex sounds a lot better than that—no “piercing.”)

‘’In West Baltimore, I saw transvestites for the first time. . . . It creeped me out. I had been taught in Bible school that there is an extended level of depravity, and this was it.’’ (Um, no. Priests molesting young children—that’s an extended level of depravity. A man dressed like Cher is not an extended level of depravity. In fact, it’s not depravity at all, unless s/he insists on lip-synching “Believe” over and over.)

"You’d be amazed how many people in the floral industry are homosexuals.” (Yes, amazed. Don’t you sometimes wonder who’s really living in the closet?)

· I learned that some homophobes are actually very loving, like Pastor Rick Bowers: ''There are those extremists who say that if a gay person were on fire you would burn in hell if you spit on them to put out the fire. . . . But we're not like that. We love the human being. It's the lifestyle we disagree with.'' (So, you would spit on a gay person? Wow—Christian love truly knows no bounds.)

· Speaking of lifestyle, in the words of the article’s author: “'Lifestyle’ is a buzzword in conservative Christian circles. It's a signal of the belief, and the policy position, that homosexuality is not an innate condition but a hedonistic way of living, one devoted to partying, drugs and wanton sex that ends, often, in illness and early death.”
(Pick your own witty response:
1. Hey—what does my college experience have to do with any of this?
2. If gays often party themselves to death, then there should be too few of them around for you to worry about.
3. I agree. I’ve never seen anyone garden so hedonistically as the older, deeply committed gay couple that lives down the street from me.)

· Why was I not surprised to learn the following about one of the most active anti-gay couples featured in the article?: “The Grays have converted their basement -- paneled, wall-to-wall-carpeted, decorated with Jim Gray's Confederate memorabilia (a portrait of Jeb Stuart, framed currency) and the twinkling lights -- into an office.” Ah yes, the old “The South Will Rise Again” crowd. This validates another thought I’ve been trumpeting all along, which is that the language homophobes use to denounce gay marriage is exactly the same as the language racists used, in days past, to denounce interracial marriage. Don’t believe me? Here is the platform used by “activist judges” (those persistent pests!) after Reconstruction to reinstate and expand miscegenation laws. Just substitute “gay” for “interracial”:

1) First, judges claimed that marriage belonged under the control of the states rather than the federal government.
2) Second, they began to define and label all interracial relationships (even longstanding, deeply committed ones) as illicit sex rather than marriage.
3) Third, they insisted that interracial marriage was contrary to God's will, and
4) Fourth, they declared, over and over again, that interracial marriage was somehow "unnatural."

See what I mean? Of course, the RRs take exception these days to the first point above, as everyone knows they are working toward a constitutional amendment to ban gay marriage—funny how states’ rights go right out the RRs’ window when they want something badly enough. (If you’re having trouble following along, brush up on who usually bitches and moans endlessly about states’ rights, states’ rights, states’ rights. Then look up hypocrite in the dictionary. There will be a quiz later.)

· And finally, I can’t resist a small dig at the article’s author, who for the most part did a fine job, but unfortunately said the following: “'Polyamory’ is a word I learned from the anti-gay-marriage activists.” Really? A staff writer for the New York Times Magazine didn’t know the meaning of “polyamory” before this article? And apparently couldn’t figure it out, either? Let’s see . . . “poly,” meaning “many,” and “amor,” meaning “love” . . . ah crap, just forget it.

In sum:
· These people are stupid.
· I can’t believe this is as big an issue as it is.
· In 50 years these people are going to be ashamed of themselves, or at the very least they’ll be reticent in public and take their homophobia into the closet, where it belongs.
· God Bless America, and save me from your followers.

*In my opinion, all RRs either:
1. Genuinely hate gay folks;
2. Are so used to blindly following church doctrine that they are unable to see the hatefulness and hypocrisy of their “views”;
2. Are so freakin’ uncomfortable with the idea of gayness that they just can’t stand being in their own skin around anyone who might be gay; and/or
3. Are self-hating, self-denying gays themselves.

Monday, June 13, 2005

Extreme Multitasking

Things Jackspatula and I actually witnessed while roadtripping this weekend:

1. A woman removing rollers from her hair while stopped at a red light. (Apparently, women still put their hair up in rollers in Niles, Ohio.)
2. A woman on the back of a motorcycle reading a paperback novel (while the motorcycle was traveling at about 75 mph).

Plus, something we heard on a classic rock radio station broadcasting from Cleveland:

D.J.: We’ve got a beautiful day here, people are outside grilling and barbequing, and of course a lot of people are getting ready for the Deep Purple show coming up on Tuesday . . .

Wow. Not only is Deep Purple back on tour, but apparently it takes at least two days to “get ready” for them! What would that involve, exactly, Jackspatula and I wondered? Maybe you have to start drinking RIGHT NOW in order to be truly ready for Deep Purple? Or maybe you need to brush up on some serious air guitar? You have to find your oldest, most street-credible black T-shirt and rip the sleeves off?

Ah, so many things to ponder while driving through lovely northern Ohio on a lazy Sunday . . .

Thursday, June 09, 2005

You might be a redneck if . . .

. . . you go to a bluegrass festival, drink beer all day and all night, and then decide around 5:00 in the morning to start whooping it up in proper stereotypical redneck fashion, with no regard for the many people trying to sleep in tents (which is hard enough as it is) all around you. You know, some people are actually proud of being rednecks. These people should not be proud.

This past weekend, Jackspatula, The Doe, and I headed down to southern Ohio for the annual Appalachian Uprising festival. Now, some of you might be thinking, "But flipper, the title of the festival alone should imply the presence of many rednecks. What are you complaining about?" Fair enough. And believe me, I don't hate rednecks, per se. I am someone who has spent much of her adult life hanging out in dive bars and pool halls. I know me some rednecks, and usually I can tolerate them very well. But this was a unique scenario. Allow me to set the scene.

Picture a beautiful valley in southern Ohio, with green grass as far as the eye can see, surrounded by lovely trees and blanketed by a peaceful and wondrous sky. Now picture this valley dotted with hundreds (well, dozens, at least) of tents and RVs arranged around campfires and makeshift canvass lean-tos. It is about 5:00 in the morning, and most festival-goers are snoozing away in tents, campers, and backs of pickup trucks after a night of enjoying kick-ass blugrass music into the wee hours. (Actually, Jackspatula and I, being old and lame, went to bed around 11:00--that was "wee" enough for us and The Doe. But anyway.)

Suddenly, the peace of the morning is broken by an extremely loud, extremely obnoxious whoop and holler--a mere taste of what is to come. For positioned about 20 yards behind our tent (of course) is a group of five or six very drunk, very sloppy, very ignorant white guys (of course) gathered around their souped-up Harley Davidson golf cart (I kid you not), each working on about his 40th beer and none harboring any intention of going to bed (or even passing out) anytime soon. Can you imagine, dear reader, what it's like to be awakened in your tent by said developments, knowing with uncanny certainty that this scenario is sure to go on indefinitely, knowing that no matter how exhausted you are, you will never be able to get back to sleep, and that you won't be able to do anything about it? If you can, you know what it was like to be me on Sunday morning. If I've learned anything in this life, it's that a lone woman should not approach five drunken rednecks and ask them to please shut the fuck up. To do so would not be brave or noble--more like stupid.

So I'm laying there, staring at the ceiling of the tent, unavoidably listening to the ensuing eloquent exchange of redneck thoughts and musings. It went something like this:

--What the fuck you doin'? Crazy bastard!
--Gotta take a piss, man. Fuck you.
--Woo-hoo!
--Yee-haw!
--Did you see that shit, man?
--Hey, give me that beer.
--You want a beer?
--Hell yeah, I want a beer! What the fuck? I ain't sleepin'! You sleepin'? God-damn pussy!
--I ain't sleepin'! Give me another beer, you fuckin' bastard.
--You want this beer, shit-head?
--Ya know who I like? Fuckin' Stevie Earle, man.

This was followed by a less-than-rousing, but extremely loud, group effort at a rendition of Steve Earle's "Copperhead Road," a song I used to actually like. There was much disagreement about the lyrics until they finally agreed on how the song should go, which, in their assessment, is like this:

--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!
--COPPERHEAD ROAD!!!

O.K., I got tired of cutting and pasting . . . just use your imagination in contemplating how long this "refrain" went on. Curious about how the conversation resumed after the song was finished? See dialogue above.

Well, I couldn't just lay there forever, and The Doe had to pee, so eventually she and I emerged from the tent. If I had to sum up my mental state at this point, the polite way to put it would be "not happy." Unfortunately, my emergence from the tent did not go unnoticed. As I searched the campsite for The Doe's leash, the talk around the Harley Golf Cart Drinking Altar shifted gears a bit:

--God damn! We've been waiting all night for a female to show up, and when one finally does, she's fuckin' pissed off!
--Yeah, man, she ain't happy. Give me another fuckin' beer.

Is anyone else shocked that these gems of humanity seem to have trouble attracting women? Yeah, it's pretty mindblowing. You'll be happy to know, dear reader, that my ability to completely ignore remained intact. I gritted my teeth (which was also necessary in using the outhouse, by the way) and made it through the morning without confrontation. Luckily, soon after I got up, the copious amounts of beer these men-among-men had managed to consume began to take their toll, and one by one they stumbled off to their respective tents. (Plus, two of them drove away on the golf cart--can you get a DUI on a golf cart? Just curious.)

I must say that other than this particular incident, the festival was a blast. Also, it's annual. If you dig bluegrass music and live in the heart of it all, you should check it out next year. I would advise drinking much more than I did, if only to be able to sleep through any Redneck Predawn Adventure, should it occur.