Me at age 14 with friend, Esther. (2000)

I’ve always been anal. I’ve always liked there to be a time and place for everything, and I can get frustrated when things don’t fit together, like a song that has no chorus. There was a time in my life when a drastic shift in theme, character, or setting between seasons was enough for me to stop watching a beloved television show. And there used to be a time when I assumed the theme, characters, and setting of my life would be exactly as I had planned them out. I don’t really buy these preferences anymore, and I feel like I’m all the wiser for it.

Today I mark the big 26. What is that, late-mid 20′s? I insist it’s still mid-20′s. It’s not that I have any problem with getting old—it’s just that life feels so new this year that I prefer the “younger” framing. Twenty-six isn’t really “big” or “the”-worthy either, but this birthday feels significant, because it’s my first in a new era of my existence.

Last year at 25 should have been significant. A perfect square, a quarter of a century. But who cares about numbers?I was unemployed and living in complete uncertainty for what my future held. Boy was I surprised at just what 25 would bring with it.

Now I have a job! I’m living on my own! And I’m part of a big city for the first time in my life. And that job? Totally not what I thought it would be. I wrote back in March that this new life course made little sense to me when compared to my previous life plan, and I’m still not sure it does. But it’s the path I’m on now… and it’s just peachy.

So here’s a little thought on the passage of time. Whatever comes next doesn’t necessarily have to have anything to do with what came before. As individuals, we are the sum total of our experiences. The world presents us with a whole lot of dots and our lives are what connect them. When we die—or at any point along the way—we can look back and measure our lives not just by the quantity of our accomplishments, but by the tapestry we wove, the picture we unknowingly drew.

It’s pretty cheesy and platitudinous, I know. But that’s just where I am with things. When you let go of all those certainties and expectations society provides, life is a whole lot more exciting and surprising.

So cheers to living life as a rhapsody and dropping glitter on all those strophic codgers.

After past discussions of sexual fantasies and even an interview with a porn star, Zack and Peterson decided it was time to actually talk about porn. In particular, the conversation addresses two questions: what were folks’ first experience with porn and what role has porn played in folks’ lives? There is sharing all around, including from a number of commenters on Peterson’s blog. We try to tackle the taboo around acknowledging porn’s existence in our lives and celebrate some of the important benefits it can actually offer us. Please feel free to leave your own comments (even if you disagree) and feel free to share your own story as well!

Here’s some more information about what we talked about this week:

» Peterson’s invitation to discuss: What about porn?

» This week’s erotic poem: How To Make Love to a Trans Person by Gabe Moses

While a Music Ed major, all my extracurriculars were in student affairs. I went to grad school for Student Affairs.

While in grad school, I thought I had a good balance of music and student affairs, but I also ended up starting a blog.

And now, I will be taking a job in blogging.

This week, I’ve accepted an offer to join the team over at the Center for American Progress as an LGBT researcher and blogger (for Think Progress and The Wonk Room). I’m not sure what my posting regimen there will look like yet, but it’s safe to say that ZFb will not be getting nearly as much attention. More on that to come.

For now, at least, the fine folks I’ll be working with have indicated that this blog doesn’t have to go anywhere. I still may very well write here from time to time when I need to get something out that I can’t really write about over there. At the very least, Peterson and I are committed to maintaining Queer and Queerer on at least a semi-regular basis!

It never occurred to me that this little hobby of mine could turn into a career, and so I have to thank a few folks who made it possible.

First of all, Pete Berg needs to be thanked. He doesn’t do anything for me on a regular basis, but it’s thanks to his generosity that this blog (and its podcast) has a home on the interwebs. Thank you, Pete, for continuing to host ZFb!

Pam Spaulding and Bil Browning: The two of you have been incredible mentors and I truly appreciate all of your encouragement and support. I would not be taking this step forward if it weren’t for your promotion of my writing.

Michael Crawford/Freedom to Marry and Mike Rogers: Thanks to your financial support, I was able to attend Netroots Nation this year, which was surely a turning point for me. It was the first time I stood among other bloggers and felt like I was legitimate and doing something real, and the connections I made there were priceless. Thank you for helping me on this path!

My fabulous readers: Thank you for being here, supporting me, promoting my posts, and commenting!

Lots of exciting change to come and I’m not sure what it all will look like!!!

More about religion later this week.

Every year, I feel compelled to write something during this moment of limbo while I leave behind “homotopia” to return to a world of heterosexual privilege and queer social isolation.

After leaving Denver in 2009, I described the awesome and important new connections I made there. Last year, Dallas left me energized to take action by bringing the energy of of the conference home with me. This year, I feel compelled to just say a few words about family.

It’s not used as often these days, but folks still often use “family” to describe members of the queer community. “Are they family?” It’s a little code to recognize a connection between us all and how our lives in this society are different from the heterosexual and cisgender norms.

But despite its purpose as a codeword, it also carries an underlying depth with it. Creating Change really is a big family reunion in a lot of ways. It’s an ever-growing family, and it’s the perfect opportunity to welcome and engage with new members.

I’m sitting in the airport with a new friend I made as we wait for his flight to leave. He’s someone I didn’t know four days ago and someone I’m now very sad to say goodbye to, one of countless new and old connections from the weekend that fit that description. I can’t imagine not cherishing every last second I have to enjoy such wonderful company. And whether or not any of us keep in touch regularly (we will) or see each other again before CC12 in Baltimore, our lives are different because our paths have crossed.

And as we all depart from the land of lakes, we return to lives where we don’t have this family at our immediate disposal, but we are refreshed and energized. We are reminded that we’re not alone, that our struggles locally are not unique and that we have a family to fall back on.

Most days, being queer is just one small facet of our lives that really doesn’t define us. But some days, we remember that it is still a significant part of who we are, a slice of our identities that connects us to others in a unique way we cannot ever truly lose.

Those of us with the privilege of attending Creating Change have a responsibility to bring back that sense of family to our schools and communities. We’ve touched base with that sense of love, support, and dependence that is at the heart of our queerness, and we owe it to the others in our lives to help them feel the same.

I’m tired and very emotionally drained, so I’ll refrain from babbling much more at this point… but to all you folks out there: you are loved. We are all part of a family, and it’s a family who will always be there waiting when we need it.

Cheers from Minneapolis.

I’m really proud of the way this little blog of mine has grown and matured (and I along with it). I’ll have mixed feelings when I look back on 2010, as it was the (hopefully only) full calendar year I spent unemployed. Still, it was a proud sophomore year for ZFb, so I thought I’d mark today’s blogiversary with some highlights and reflections from the past year.

Certainly, the year started off quite busy with the Prop 8 trial. I was entranced; by the second or third day, I felt compelled to provide some comprehensive coverage. After all, it was the passage of Prop 8 that in many ways spurred the creation of this blog. Plus, the kinds of discussions that were held in that courtroom a year ago were historically groundbreaking and deserved as much attention as they could get.

Knowing I had many non-LGBT readers from the atheism community, I wanted them to see how fundamental religion was to the debate. Highlighting all of the rhetoric coming from Protect Marriage was a “dirty job,” but I think it helped illustrate that those opposed to marriage equality were clearly motivated by animus, continuing to say hurtful (and untrue) things in a public forum even as the trial was underway. Judge Walker’s decision brilliantly reduced their rhetoric to the phony bigotry it truly is.

My passion for covering Prop 8 has since subsided a bit, but only because it’s not as content-heavy. Despite praise for some of my legal analysis, I am not a legal scholar (at least not at this point in my life). While I do think of myself as a journalist, I don’t feel compelled to write about everything that happens. My voice on the blog has certainly evolved, and I write now more because I want to, not just out of a need to process. I hold myself to a higher standard of what I think will be meaningful and interesting to readers.

Certainly, the content has evolved too. The introduction of the Queer and Queerer podcast has been most rewarding, as has my friendship with Peterson Toscano that has accompanied it. Despite being a delight to record, it also is a fresh venue and context for discussing the issues of the day. I look forward to it continuing, and hopefully more people join our discussions and find it a valuable and entertaining resource.

I’m also still really excited that there are now some additional contributors to the site! It’s a small start, but I think Andy Szekeres and Shannon Cuttle have brought some important voices to the blog. I don’t think enough can ever be said about the importance of creating safe schools for our young people, and Shannon doesn’t disappoint. Andy’s political savvy provides opportunities for us to think about issues in fresh ways. Every time they submit new posts, I am just delighted by their fresh perspectives and honored to host them here.

Content has been LGBT-heavy here the past year, but I don’t apologize for that. With the Prop 8 trial, growing frustration with Gay, Inc., GetEQUAL, my first foray to Netroots Nation with the LGBT caucus (thanks again to Freedom to Marry and all who voted), the spate of bullying-induced suicides, and the lead-up to Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell “repeal,” it has been an important year for LGBT issues! Atheism is still an important part of this blog, and throughout the year, I’ve tried to get people within the LGBT community thinking about it (with contexts such as Creating Change, a Catholic preschool, atheists as allies, and the ex-gay movement). Next month, at Creating Change, I will also be hosting a caucus for LGBT nonbelievers to continue trying to create visibility for this “double” invisibility.

Higher education has been harder to focus on because I’ve become somewhat disconnected from it. Still, I was honored to have four pieces published in The Cronk of Higher Education. Once the job search gets me back on a campus, I’m sure I’ll be reoriented toward thinking about it more. Having stepped away from it, I’ve realized how insular it can be, and so my hope for the future is to better connect the happenings on university campuses to the “outside” world. It’s amazing how little we currently learn from our institutions of higher learning if we’re not physically there or actively seeking them out.

And so the 401 posts from 2010 get archived and year three begins. Who knows what will be in store? I am not sure, but I’m excited about it! 2010 ended with an important milestone: I earned my first $100 from the blog. It’s not a lot of money given that it took 15 months to accumulate, but it’s still extremely validating. There are at least a few people out there who find what I write here to be interesting and worthwhile. That alone is motivation to continue!

Thank you to all my readers and supporters who have made this little experiment into something profound and meaningful! I hope it’s a very happy new year!

(By the way, the traditional gift for a 2nd anniversary is cotton, and I love snarky/nerdy t-shirts. Just an FYI.)

Having my own scare once opened my eyes. I had had a low-risk sexual encounter with someone, and a few months later found out he had contracted HIV. Though he might not have even been positive at the time of our encounter and we did not exchange fluids, any doubt is enough. The worst was that I still had to wait a few more months myself before I could get tested. Though I didn’t have much reason to be worried, I still felt incredible dread that the course of my life had changed forever.

Thankfully, I had not contracted HIV. I did not become a statistic.

Nonetheless, I realized from that experience how easy it can still be to get it. I am not far removed—none of us are. And while HIV might be much more livable than it ever was, it is still a huge burden to the health and also financial well-being of the LGBT community and world at large.

Rather than prattle on here, I invite you to take a look at some of these other resources. Please explore them and let today be an important reminder that we have a long way to go in fighting back this virus.

» Positively Aware brings us A Day with HIV in America, a photo exhibit featuring different individuals living with HIV.

» Blogger Mark S. King shares his moving personal account of the AIDS epidemic:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=j7VpEsPMRpg

» Bowing to pressure from the Catholic League and conservatives, the National Portrait Gallery has pathetically censored an exhibit by David Wojnarowicz, a gay artist who died from AIDS-related illness in 1992.

» Towleroad’s Kevin Sessums has a World AIDS Day interview with actress Judith Light.

» A number of celebrities are “digitally dying” until money is raised to Keep a Child Alive.

These are just but a few of the resources for today; EDGE has many more. Do not let today pass without remembering all those who have been lost to AIDS and those still afflicted by its wrath.

As I wrote last year and discussed on yesterday’s Queer and Queerer, Thanksgiving has an underlying assumption that God is responsible for those things. So today, rather than just thinking about WHAT you’re thankful for, think about WHO you’re thankful to.

We’re all just monkeys in shoes and all we have is each other, so take a few minutes today to show your appreciation to those who have made a difference in your life.

I know that I am thankful to all of you out there who support me and this little old blog I write. It’s not been an easy year, but it’s meant a lot to have your support and your feedback.

Best wishes for a lovely day with friends and family.

I’ve followed Pam for a very long time, but only met her for the first time this Summer. We were very fast friends and had a lot of great conversation. She has also done a lot to create visibility for my writing by promoting my crossposts to her site, which I can’t thank her for enough.

And so while I won’t be praying for her, she is definitely in my thoughts today. This blogger community is smaller than you’d think, and I think it’s super important we all look out for each other, especially because we so rarely get to see each other. Stop by the Blend today and send some love. We hope for a very speedy recovery!!!

It’s been a tough week here in central PA. Peterson and Zack commit this episode to discussing the loss of Brandon Bitner, a local 14-year-old who committed suicide on November 5 after suffering bullying about his perceived gender and sexuality. We talk about learning about his death, attending his funeral, and community reactions afterward. While we’ve talked about bullying and suicide on previous episodes, we now take a first-hand look at how our own communities are struggling to cope and make meaning of this tragic loss. Our hearts go out to all the friends, family, and loved ones struggling not only with Brandon’s death, but all young people who leave us too soon.

Here’s some more information about what we talked about this week:

» BrandonBitner.com, a site committed to his remembrance.

» Zack’s posts about Brandon’s death and attending his funeral.

» The Daily Item‘s coverage of this weekend’s forum.

» John Corvino’s article about working with evangelical Christians.

» Trans Day of Remembrance.

There is a moment in the coming out process… it’s not part of all the psycho-social identity development theories or anything, but it is the most profound moment in a young gay man’s life.

It is the very first time that you feel the touch of another man. I’m not talking at all about sex, but the very first time you allow yourself to test those waters of intimacy. The first time your legs touch… a little bit too much and a little bit too long for it to mean nothing. And the shivers run up and down your spine as every hair stands on end… and you both know. You both know it’s right but you both know it’s wrong, and so maybe that’s all there ever is.

But eventually, the moment comes when another man first holds you in his arms or kisses you for the first time. And… I don’t know. A lot of you out there reading this will just be like, “WHAT IS ZACK ON?” or you’ll just think I’m being really cheesy.

But I’m not. There is truly something powerful about it. The word “relief” doesn’t do it justice… it’s a wave of peace that just washes over you. And I refuse to believe it’s the same as any old heterosexual first kiss.

There’s so much guilt, so much shame, so much fear… and it can persist and haunt you your whole life… but in that moment, all of it goes away. All of the questions and confusion and frustration just vanishes. And it’s like you exist. And you’re safe. Your love exists. You have a place in the world. It’s a single moment that fills you with hope and happiness like nothing ever can.

And sometimes it’s hard to find that moment again. New loves you find along the way can relieve your burdens in beautiful ways, but none packs the punch as that first one… the first time you knew that another person could truly love you.

Glee reminded me of that moment tonight.

And tomorrow morning, I’ll be going to Brandon Bitner‘s funeral. He was only 14… I don’t know if he ever got the chance to have a moment like that. He might not have even been gay, but I think that’s besides the point.

We all deserve to feel that love, to explore that true expression of ourselves and our bodies with another.

Tomorrow will be a reminder of the way we still deprive so many young people of those moments. We convince them not to love themselves and not to ever consider that another person could ever hold them… or comfort them… or just make them feel safe.

And I just think it’s one of the cruelest things in the world.

…

(There was a similar moment the first time I ever heard a love song that I knew was written by a man, for a man. It was by Levi Kreis, the first openly gay musician I discovered. Listening to his first album, “One of the Ones,” still reminds me of those moments when I first realized how real the love between two men could be. Here’s a compilation of intimate photos of men someone made to Levi’s song, “Just This Good.”)

www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTezPnYrSMc

…

At the Soulforce Symposium, I asked the panel about what I feel to be conflicting identities, being both gay and atheist. My friend, Cathy Renna, offered that she’s long witnessed a disenchantment with religion in the LGBT community, to the extent that it was once taboo to admit attending services on a Sunday morning. And she’s surely right, and it might only be in recent years that the LGBT community has placed a much greater focus on embracing and reconciling with religion. It could just be a pendulum swinging back towards a pro-religion point of view, but it would only have had to be as recent as the past six years for it to define my whole experience.

Now, let’s face it, it’s no surprise that LGBT folks would feel alienated from religion. After all, arguably all anti-gay and anti-trans sentiments are securely rooted in religious teachings and the willful ignorance that is religious thinking.

But not wanting to practice a religion and being an atheist are two very different things. Just because members of the LGBT community no longer want to be a part of religion doesn’t mean they’ve stopped believing, or stopped being “religious,” at least as I defined it above. It doesn’t make them atheists, and it definitely does not automatically make them welcoming or inclusive of atheists.

The virus of religious thinking does not let go so easily, and the human brain is incredibly adept at functioning under the conditions of cognitive dissonance. A person who believed that homosexuality is a sin that then decided that the Bible was wrong about that could easily never question that the whole rest of the Bible is just as fallible. That person might trust religion less, but never bother to think critically about any of the rest of it, and certainly not abandon it.

But being an atheist? That’s a whole different ballgame.

…

First, you should know that there’s a whole atheist community. It’s true. In fact, just like the LGBTQQIAA community has diversity, we have atheists, agnostics, freethinkers, nonbelievers, skeptics, brights, humanists, and more. There’s a lot of overlap—I identify with at least five of those labels—so we don’t use a a long acronym, just a single scarlet A. We have a coming out process and it can often be as difficult or worse than coming out as gay (and unlike the coming out process for homosexuality, it hasn’t been studied at all). We suffer incredible oppression in the United States; in fact, we are the least trusted minority and our vision of America is the least popular, even compared to Muslims and homosexuals [sic]. We’re also the only minority group for which tolerance has not grown over the past 30 years.

And yet, here we are. We vigilantly disclose our identities specifically so we can create change. We challenge people’s core beliefs and welcome heated debate. And we are a community. We make an active choice to identify openly and we seek each other out. We need each other’s support.

This community is a very different picture than the group of folks who just don’t participate in religion anymore. It’s a whole different identity, a whole different community, and a whole different set of challenges.

And you know what’s great about the atheist community? Even though it is predominantly heterosexual (like the rest of society), it is overwhelmingly supportive and inclusive of LGBT issues. I would go so far as to say that the atheist community understands that anti-gay attitudes are among the most dangerous and unscientific views still held by most of modern society, and they speak out in defense of the LGBT community all the time. The atheist community is by far one of the strongest LGBT allies of any other minority community.

But then I come back over to the gay community and the reverse is not true for me as an atheist. HRC’s putting out a “Clergy Call 2011 for Justice and Equality.” The Task Force has a whole “multi-faith” mini-conference as part of Creating Change this year, as if CC weren’t faith-centric enough. There’s the MCC and UU, Catholics for Equality and Soulforce, and a slew of other pro-religion organizations that work on behalf of LGBT equality. Now, don’t get me wrong, as a gay man, I appreciate those efforts greatly. But as an atheist, they totally alienate me. They make me feel unwelcome because they are antithetical to my point of view. And I seldom see partnerships with the atheist groups eager to help!

As an atheist, I want to dismantle the power that religion has, not reinforce it. I don’t want people to reconcile their homosexuality with their faith; I want them to see that homosexuality is a brilliant example for how flawed and unnecessary faith is. I hate the idea that religions or religious beliefs are something deserving of respect, and I have no intention of respecting them or catering to them in order to achieve legal equality as a gay man. I want to work with other LGBT activists, but I don’t want to have to sit through prayers or endure a faith hegemony to make my difference in the movement. And yet, that is increasingly the environment with which I am faced in the LGBT movement.

…

If you buy into the ex-gay movement even just a little, you are faced with two choices. You can try to change your sexual orientation or you can fail to change your sexual orientation. If you fail, they have nothing left for you, and certainly no validation for embracing an identity other than heterosexuality.

While it’s not as overt, I feel like the LGBT movement similarly offers a kind of non-choice for atheists. I can work with faith and I can work without faith, but there is very little room for me to work against faith. While there may be some who aren’t thrilled with religion, they like holding on to their own faith, nonetheless. Frankly, there is a certain baseline of anti-atheist prejudice (I call it “faithism”) and religious privilege that is just as prevalent in the LGBT community as the rest of society.

Many atheists within the LGBT community struggle to be out (or even come out), recognizing the challenges of openly identifying as atheist within the LGBT community, and particularly of identifying as both atheist and LGBT in greater society. Surely for most, LGBT issues are more salient to them, impacting their relationships, families, housing, and employment. It’s all too easy to subscribe to the silence and invisibility for nonbelievers that is already in place.

Gaytheism is a borderland that is not always fun to live in. On one side of the Venn diagram are the LGBT issues that are so salient and important to me that I am passionately dedicated to addressing, but which is a community that still ostracizes me for my way of thinking. On the other side is the atheist community, a group that completely appreciates who I am and supports my point of view, but who are less organized, less committed to the issues most important to me, and likely not the place I’ll find a life partner or a job in activism or education. And I can’t have it both ways and still maintain my own integrity, because I can’t both disavow faith and simultaneously reinforce it and feel like I’m making any meaning out of my own life.

Given that I am a man of integrity, what choice do I have but to push? Push the LGBT movement to open its eyes not just to the unreligious, but to its atheist subcommunity en masse. I have to encourage other LGBT nonbelievers to come out. I have to try to help organizations understand how their religious messages or strategies can be very exclusive. I have to convince the LGBT movement to accept and welcome the support of the many atheist and humanist organizations eager to be involved with the effort for LGBT equality. Maybe I even have to create one that represents LGBT issues specifically on behalf of nonbelievers.

So, I’m just putting it all out there for you, LGBT movement. I’m going to be a little thorn in your side. I’m going to call you out on your religious privilege. I’m going to cause some consternation for your believers. I’m going to say things that aren’t popular and that aren’t even always welcome. It is very much my intent to push and to change as much it is my intent to support and cooperate. We’re stuck with each other, so we’d best make the most of it.

But if nothing else, remember this: I’m not the only one. I know when prayers and Amens are making me feel uncomfortable and unwelcome; I can identify those triggers, respond to them appropriately, and continue on. But there are a lot of members of our community who aren’t where I am, who feel silenced and alienated by all the attention you pay to religion. I want to create a movement that understands and appreciates their point of view as much as any other, and I want to work together to make that happen.

I hope you do too.

Well, my blip on the map is now circulating on LGBT blogs, because it was the State Police from my little town that responded to the suicide of a 14-year-old named Brandon Bitner two little towns over. He ran in front of a tractor-trailer at 3 AM Friday morning. He’d been bullied for his perceived sexual orientation and gender identity.

“It was because of bullying,” friend Takara Jo Folk wrote in a letter to The Daily Item.

“It was not about race, or gender, but they bullied him for his sexual preferences and the way he dressed. Which,” she said, “they wrongly accused him of.”

Brandon went to Middleburg High School. I know Middleburg High School. I’ve been there plenty of times for football games, basketball games, and even cheerleading competitions. It’s just like any other little school here in rural central Pennsylvania. And Brandon was surely bullied just like kids at all the other little schools are bullied. Just like little schools in little towns in every other state of this country.

“Anyone in our school who looks different is tortured,” said sophomore Emily Beall-Ellersieck, of Middleburg, who said Bitner had “changed” around the eighth grade.

Bullying is a problem at the school, she said, and “It needs to be dealt with.”

A website has been set up at BrandonBitner.com to remember him. Take some time to look around it. Get to know this young man who left us and the friends who miss him.

The suicides that have been reported over the past few months are not new, they’re just newly visible. The toxic culture in these schools is not new, it’s just newly alerting.

When is tragic news going to hit your hometown? When are you going to be faced with a loss that could have been prevented?

Every day—every hour—that is wasted not teaching young people about sexual orientation and gender identity, about their bodies and their identities, and about how to respect each other is another missed opportunity to prevent this kind of loss.

And why do we delay? It’s because of the lies spread by the ex-gay movement, those same groups I was resisting this weekend. It’s because of the scare tactics of the religious right. It’s because we’re too fucking cowardly to stand up and say, “This is not okay and our kids deserve better,” because we don’t want to “offend” some parents.

Guess what, parents? Some of your kids are going to be gay or bi. Some of them are going to be trans. And guess what? It’s not amoral, it’s not abnormal, and it’s not unhealthy. If you disagree, that’s not okay. You’re wrong. The only thing unhealthy is the messages you send with your poorly informed point of view.

So wake up America. Your blind ignorance is killing your youth. Your repugnant sense of moral superiority is forcing young people to live in absolute misery. And your obnoxiously loud preaching against the LGBT community is the very model these young bullies learn from.

It’s time for people to start apologizing. It’s time that people create change.

Enough of this “It Gets Better” bullshit. The false optimism is giving way too many people the impression that they’re making a difference when they’re only treating the symptoms and not the cause. Until we get in there and actually teach—actually raise awareness—it won’t get better. And not only do we have to teach our young people, we have to teach their parents, their teachers, and their administrators.

The other kids get it. Read all their comments on the article. They totally get it. They just don’t have any support to do anything about it.

It’s all you adults out there who are the real problem. No, I do not respect your beliefs. Your beliefs can shove it. Your beliefs are the problem. Your beliefs are not just a different perspective; they’re a wrong perspective.

To every single individual out there who has ever equivocated about teaching kids about sexual orientation and gender identity as a means to prevent this kind of bullying, the blood is on your hands.

[Note: I penned an additional reflection about my experience at Brandon's funeral. Please click here to read it.]

I also wanted to track who all wrote about encountering me at the rally. That’s what this post is for. I hope you don’t think it too egotistical or anything. I really wanted to make a difference and get people thinking, so… I don’t know… I’m just kind of curious to see what impact I had. Given how many people dressed as Waldo, you can’t blame me for wondering who found me.

Here are the mentions of me and my sign I’ve found in no particular order. I’ll keep it updated if I find more. I feel like some kind of superhero or something, because I’m nameless in most of these stories.

» I added my sign to the Huffington Post gallery. Won’t you vote for it?

» Chris Johnson of the Washington Blade interviewed me and included me and my sign in his story on the rally.

» Samantha, intern from WYPR’s Midday with Dan Rodricks, interviewed me for Monday’s show.

» Annie Groer of AOL News’ Politics Daily found me. (Her short list of signs also pops up on many comment forums.)

» Jonathan Kay of the Canadian National Post found me.

» New York Magazine found me.

» LA News Monitor found me.

» A blogger named “svalbard” glomped me.

» Some folks on tumblr found me. One reacted to my sign: “Life = made.”

But I’m in a good kind of a pain right now, because I spent almost seven hours on my feet giving out hugs at Saturday’s huge Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear. Aside from a few little press interviews and one five-minute break to eat a snack, I was “on duty” from 9 until almost 4. I didn’t keep count, but this militant atheist with a gay agenda easily gave up to 150 hugs/hour, so I guesstimate I gave around 1000-1200 hugs.

(I’m kind of bummed the Christian Science Monitor didn’t quote me in its story despite interviewing me; I was really curious to see how I would have been portrayed there.)

I had no comprehension of what was happening on the stage at the rally. In fact, I didn’t see any clips until the next day! But I had an amazing time, nonetheless—perhaps the best day of my life. I definitely feel I made a difference, and I had to convince myself to leave when I did, though there was still a steady flow of huggable traffic.

I don’t have any sentimental videos to show you, but let me tell you a little bit about what it’s like to give people hugs all day.

First of all, let me share something kind of depressing. A lot of people are afraid to ask for hugs. I spent the whole day standing in the flow of traffic, but I didn’t shout out to solicit at all. Many stopped to take pictures of me and my sign, most of whom politely asked if they could. I usually replied, “So long as I get a hug out of it,” in which case I always did. But there were so very many who read the sign, smiled, and made extended eye contact… but kept walking. Quite a few said, “Keep up the good work,” and a surprising number gently patted my shoulder as they walked past, as if to say, “I’m with you.”

Every once in a while, when someone made casual contact like that, I would offer, “Do you want one?” or even, “Oh, come on, you know you want one.” And there would be this sense of relief and a smile as they eagerly came in for a hug. I didn’t want to push (or guilt) anyone into a hug they didn’t want, but it was amazing to see how many people wanted hugs but didn’t feel it was their place to ask despite my obvious offer.

This, alone, seems to me a stunning commentary on the state of things in our society. Here was a huge group of people at what had to be the most mild-mannered rally of its size ever, and there were people who still felt reluctant to let themselves enjoy some social contact that was freely offered. Are we afraid of each other? Are we afraid of love? Are we afraid to let ourselves be loved? Do people feel like they don’t deserve hugs? I really wonder about the state of things that so many would feel they couldn’t ask someone as obviously goofy as me for a hug.

Don’t get me wrong, there are certainly folks who don’t like hugs. I happily offered many high fives and (terrorist) fist bumps to folks who didn’t want to be touchy-feely. But what I’m talking about is folks who really wanted to hug, but just didn’t feel comfortable asking. It was also evident that seeing other people hug me set an example that “made it okay,” and so folks would come in clumps, but people who didn’t see me hugging someone else were less apt to ask for a hug themselves. This phenomenon, more than anything else, has me inspired to continue my own Free Hugs campaign in the future.

But let’s put those thoughts aside and focus on the positive. Hugs really are amazing. I had hugs of all kind. I had full-on hugs, one-arm hugs, side hugs (not Christian though), hugs from behind, group hugs, long meaningful hugs, awkwardly long waiting-for-the-friend-to-figure-out-the-camera hugs, running-start pick-up-and-spin-around hugs, and whoa-careful-you-almost-tackled-me-to-the-ground hugs. (Starting to understand why I’m sore now?) Hugs can be awkward if you don’t know where each other’s arms or heads are going, but they all turn out just right in the end. Sometimes I could see hug-wanters coming from many yards away by the look in their eyes and the intense bee line they were making for me. Other times people passed by and then turned around and came back because they just couldn’t pass one up.

I hugged people of all genders (including beyond the binary, as one person disclosed), ethnicities, religions, and ages.

I actually found a lot of middle-aged and older women were eager to get hugs. One woman said, “I hope you don’t mind grandma hugs.” Who minds grandma hugs?!?! (If there is a People Against Grandma Hugs group out there somewhere, it is officially my mission to destroy you!) Some younger kids were shy about hugs, and one hug with a little kiddo backfired when my shoulder and his head met in an unfortunate way! He jokingly wobbled around as if I’d just knocked him out. Don’t worry, he was okay! Hug mishaps will happen, and we made sure he got a good one.

Two couples insisted their (“progressive,” as one qualified) infants in strollers be photographed with me. In both cases, I double checked to make sure they weren’t worried I’d rub off on the toddlers. I even hugged a few pregnant women, so all the pro-lifers out there will surely count each as two hugs.

Women seemed slightly more interested in hugs than men. Many had their boyfriends photograph them hugging me, but the boyfriends were not as interested in hugging (though plenty did). When posing for pictures with women (particularly older women), it was not uncommon for their hands to just happen to be on my butt. My butt was never squeezed—at no point did I feel violated—but there their hands were. I felt a little dirty, but not in a bad way! I was happy to see that plenty of guys sought out hugs of their own volition, too. One guy, who was presumably straight and quite confident in his sexuality, insisted on a long, sensual hug, adding, “Yeah, just hold me gently.” He was quite handsome and I happily obliged.

Interestingly, many of the guys who wanted hugs gave real hugs, not feeling the need for the 3-pat “I’m-not-gay” hug variety. Some of these guys even made the necessary “I’m straight, but I’ll still hug you” disclaimer (as if my “gay agenda” meant I only gave gay hugs?), but still gave real hugs. I wonder if the “straight” hug only comes into play between guys who know each other, but with a complete stranger, guys feel more comfortable giving the meaningful kind of hugs we all treasure.

Many folks were quite excited about my gay agenda. A few straight folks weren’t sure if they could really be a part of the gay agenda, but offered that they certainly supported it. I told them I was pretty sure they didn’t have to be gay to be part of the gay agenda, but that I’d get in touch with the gay leadership on high and get back to them.

I felt bad that not all the hugs I gave were of the same caliber. Often times I’d be bombarded in all directions by huggers and I didn’t do them all justice, though plenty complimented me on my hugging ability. Other hugs were incredibly meaningful, and you could tell that those folks really needed those hugs. One woman was particularly gracious to get a hug, because she simply hadn’t had one that day. I was quite surprised by the number of people who expressed, “I love you,” and a few added a kiss on the cheek to the encounter.

One girl let me have one of her french fries. Another fed me a bite of her salad. (I’m really hoping she doesn’t have mono.) One gentleman handed me a candy bar, which I promptly “paid forward” to a very young girl who passed by with a sign that says “I want candy.” At some point my sign inherited a pro-birth control sticker, but my favorite takeaway was a pin that said “Christine O’Donnell is not me!”

At one point, a reporter who was doing some live interviews nearby stepped away from his crew for a moment and said, “I couldn’t not give you one.” He didn’t interview me or anything. He just got his hug then rejoined his crew as they moved onto another area of the rally.

I hugged a Cylon (Toasters United Against Teabaggers), a male butterfly, a rodeo cowboy, Cookie Monster, and Bert. Bert informed me that he had just proposed to his now-fiance (who I also hugged) and that they were going to the courthouse Monday morning to get married. After I congratulated them, he told me she likes it when he wears the Bert suit, which she confirmed. I told her I agreed that he looked good in it. I then suggested that she’s into furries, which she also confirmed. (I later spotted them walking hand-in-hand without his Bert-head, and he looked pretty good without it too.)

I hugged Muslims, Hindus, Jews, Catholics, Christians, and probably more. Several Christians (and only Christians) felt the need to disclose their religion when hugging a “militant atheist” such as myself. One gentleman informed me he was a Christian missionary but he still loved me; I told him I loved him back. Several wished blessings upon me. Toward the end of the day, a woman started talking to me all about her integrated church and how it’s great to have so many different perspectives there. She then told me she’d pray for me and I politely invited her to visit my blog and read about why I prefer people not pray for me. I was shocked and impressed when she then volunteered, “Well, I suppose prayer is more for ourselves than for anybody else.” I smiled and nodded.

Of course, there were plenty of atheists. Some were just as visible about it, but for many, it was a dirty little secret they whispered in my ear as we hugged. Clearly, the message of sanity resonated a lot with the free-thinking community, and I was really delighted to see so many proud nonbelievers. I also relished the chance to visit with them afterward at a gathering Hemant Mehta organized. While I didn’t get to talk to too many people there, I really appreciated the connections I did make and the feeling of being in such rational company.

One hug from the day will stick out in my mind for the rest of my life. The woman informed me that her son, now deceased, had been both gay and atheist, and it meant so much to her that I was there. We exchanged no other words, but no more needed said. A tear formed in her eye as she hugged me with all the love she clearly has for her son.

Giving free hugs is not an original idea, and I won’t pretend that there’s anything special about my own effort to give hugs. It was also an exhausting day, and I was so tired I didn’t go out or touch base with any of my other friends who were in town. Nonetheless, it was one of the most amazing days of my life. There is a lot that we all disagree on, but hugs bridge all gaps. Love bridges all gaps. No day might ever compare to the one I just had, but I look forward to the love we can all share in days to come.

If you asked me for a hug, thanks. It meant as much to me as I hope it did to you. If you didn’t get one, there’s always one waiting… and as many more as you need.

Let’s say you were at the Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear this weekend, you saw some goofy gaytheist giving away hugs, you got one, and now you’re here at his blog. So, what’s up with that?

Well, hi! Thanks for the hug! And more importantly, thanks for following-up and checking out my blog! (Make sure you “Like” it over on the left sidebar.)

For almost two years, I have used this blog as a place to call out privilege and try to raise awareness about deficits of social justice. In particular, I have tried to hammer home LGBT rights and really challenge religious ideas. Because heck, why not? Some have thought me angry, snide, and condescending, and sometimes I am those things, but sometimes snarky just doesn’t translate online.

Rather than come to the rally to be all journalisty, I wanted this weekend to be about love. I really do want this world to be a better place. I’m not here to turn people gay or round up Christians into concentration camps. I just want us to think a little bit more about life and appreciate the people around us. Hugs, in my opinion, are the the most sane things around.

So, take a look around. Leave some feedback. You’ll probably find some things here that you like and that you don’t like, and that’s okay! I hope you feel comfortable joining the discussion one way or the other. And regardless of whether you do, I appreciated meeting you and rallying beside you. Remember to vote this week, and most importantly: keep the rally going, because if we don’t have sanity, then fishburgers will gallivant across the solar plexus.

By the way, if you need listening materials for your travels, make sure to download a few episodes of Queer and Queerer!

I would love to see and meet as many readers as possible. If you’re there, I hope you’ll try and find me (and share a hug if you do). I don’t have a fancy smart phone, so I probably won’t be checking twitter throughout the day, though I will be tweeting. Look for me and my sign, or contact me before we get there.

Also, after the rally, I’ll be joining the Atheist/Humanist Gathering rally-goers meet-up hosted by the fabulous Hemant Mehta. I hope you’ll consider joining me and 200 other nonbelievers there and introduce yourself!

This Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear will be entertaining and enjoyable, but I think there will actually be something historic and profound about it as well. I’m excited to just be a part of it, and I hope you are too. See you in DC.

Here’s a preview of my sign. I’m not the best artist, but I’m happy with how it turned out. I decided to go with sanity and fear:

For the record, I have no expectation (and certainly no intention) of dying anytime soon.

So, I thought I’d write some things down now, at age 25, in regards to my funeral. I could, in fact, die tomorrow, which would make this document incredibly valuable. If I change my mind down the road, I’ll write a “Rules and Requests For My Funeral 2.0.” No big whoop. But just in case…

Dear friends, family, and loved ones,

If you’re reading this, you read my blog (thanks!) or I’ve died and someone thought to dig this post up out of my blog archive. I’m really sorry to hear about my death; obviously, I would have tried to avoid it if I could have.  But, we all die someday, and my day arrived. I hope you are coping well.

For the record, if I’m dead, I’m really gone. I know this reads like it’s from “beyond the grave,” but I’m writing it back in 2010. At this point, Zack Ford has totally ended. I haven’t “moved on,” I’m not “in a better place,” I’m not connecting with other lost loved ones, I’m not reincarnating, I’m not still with you “in spirit,” and I’m not looking down on you. The coroner’s word is final. It’s over. Kaput. THE END.

And even if by the time I’ve died we’ve developed Caprica-like avatars, I highly doubt that my avatar is exactly me. If the real me is dead, then the real me is dead. I don’t know what year it is when I’ve died, but if people still aren’t watching Caprica, you should go back and hulu it, if you even still have hulu. Good show.

Now, as you plan my funeral, you’ll probably be thinking about “what Zack would’ve wanted.” This is both a good thing and a bad thing. See, I’m dead. I’m not going to be there for the funeral. And the funeral isn’t for me. It’s for you! So, to a certain extent, however you choose to memorialize me really ought to help you feel good about letting go and remembering me in the way that best helps you continue with your life.

It is possible though that in seeking your own solace, you disrespect me and what I stood for. I’m not around to do anything about it, so, frankly, you can do whatever it is you want to do. But if you knew me, you knew one of my biggest pet peeves is when people selfishly justify things for themselves. So, let me help you keep your conscience in check.

I shouldn’t have to say this, but unfortunately I have to say this: Don’t pray for me. Seriously, don’t. This might be the hardest thing I ask of you and I understand that. But don’t pray that I’m in heaven or that I watch over you or that God watches over my soul or any of that. And certainly don’t pray for others on my behalf. Talk about disgracing my life! There are no gods, and I think you know that I’d be really pissed if you were using your grief for my death as another self-conditioning mechanism to reinforce your delusions of a higher power. (If you do believe in God/prayer and you violate this wish of mine, then I hope I appear to you in your prayer and wag my finger at you for being so selfish and insecure.)

I really do like the idea of living on in hearts and memories. Go with that. Remember me, but do not try to hold onto me. If there’s anything I left behind that can help others, make sure they see it, but don’t try to keep me going. Cherish what you will from my life and move on.

So, no talk of an afterlife and no prayer. Got it? Oh, and if I died unexpectedly, like in a car crash or something, do not put one of those gawdy crosses up on the spot. A cross would have zero significance for my life (and would offend it quite a bit), nor would the spot where I died. Ugh! Also, donate my organs, and then donate my body to science, cremate it, or bury it without embalming it so I become a nice feast. It was hard enough to be sustainable in life; I don’t want to be unsustainable in death, too. (As an aside, at the time of this writing, I’m very sad that SunChips stopped making their decompostable bags because they were too loud. Christ, Americans are whiny. Do you still have SunChips in the future? I hope so. They’re delicious! Garden Salsa are my favorite.)

I think that covers my most important wishes. If you’re curious about what kind of memorial celebration I’d like, I’ve shared some thoughts below. It’s a lot to ask, but I think it would be the best way to celebrate my life. Is it feasible? I don’t know, but I’m dead, so what do I care? You going to tell a dead guy that he thinks too much of himself? I don’t think so. Well, maybe. Besides, I already said I want this to be what works best for you; so you can ignore everything else I put forth for all I care. (I’m dead, so I don’t care at all.)

Anyways, I think it should be an all-day affair and all of my Facebook friends should be invited, plus anyone else. Why all my Facebook friends? Well, because I was diligent enough about making sure that no one was my FB friend if they didn’t make at least the slightest impact on my life, so they should all get the chance to be a part of remembering me. It’s not like they’re all going to come, and I don’t expect it of anyone. But it’d be really cool if they did, because I know a lot of very different and interesting people and you all might learn some interesting things from each other. Everyone should wear name tags.

Why all-day? Well, because during the day, I want people to do a service project! It’s not a requirement for people who want to participate in just the evening’s events, but it should certainly be an available option for those interested. Just find some great way that everybody interested can take a little time to make other people’s lives better. (Please keep the cause secular.)

Now, I wasn’t some grand humanitarian, and I don’t want you to think I have this inflated sense of my impact on the world. I just figure, if I’m going to give people suggestions on how best to memorialize me, I ought not to be totally selfish about it. Plus, I know that there have been a ton of very loving and giving people in my life and I don’t want grieving for me to get in the way of the potential you all still have to do good works.

You know how you feel when you finish a good book (if you still have books)? It’s like… you’re kind of bummed that the book is over, but it’s kind of exhilarating because it was this complete story. It’s over now, but it was complete, and it was great, and you want to take the impact that the book had and incorporate it into your life and into your thinking. That’s kind of how I think about life. Death isn’t tragic (except when it is); it’s just the closing of a book. A memorial should be a celebration of what was great about the life and what can be taken away from it, not a time to mourn the end of it.

So what I would ideally envision then for the evening is some sort of epic roast/concert, with plenty of alcohol for those who fancy it. It should be very Ford Fest-like. In fact, why not do it in Ford Hall? That’d be fitting. People should be set up to have a good time and maybe they’ll even want to hook up with a new friend afterward, because, why not?

Why a roast? Well, enough people have told me in life that I’m going to Hell, so I might as well burn at my funeral! Besides, I know that I’m a quirky enough character that people could get some good laughs. I’m sure MG, if he’s still around, would make a great host, and I’m sure there are plenty of folks who would jump at the opportunity to tell some very funny stories about me. At least, I hope they would. (If I’m not currently a very interesting person, could some of the people reading this in the present give me a head’s up so I can make some necessary adjustments? Thanks.)

And it should be a concert too. I’m not going to tell you what songs to pick, because, come on, it’s more fun if you have artistic license! But music was super important in my life, so here are some general suggestions if you’re looking for ideas:

I would actually like a big fabulous gospel choir to be utilized for at least one song, but of course I’d prefer if the song’s lyrics were not too gospelly… like, at all. In fact, despite my normal anal retentiveness, feel free to rewrite any lyrics for humorous effect. But I want the crowd on its feet and arm-in-arm having a good ol’ time, you know? At least one sing-along would be great, too, as well as some dancing. There should be some sexy musical theatre with belty voices blending some fierce harmonies in a hugely over-produced (but low-budget) fashion. Any classical music should be comedically over-dramatic or silly and fun. Special musical guests ought to include a gay men’s chorus and/or Ithacappella, a winner of Molson Canadian Idol (LD), brass players from the 518 (RP and JH), and of course my siblings of Mu Phi Epsilon.

Given the amount of work some people would have to put in to make that kind of event happen, you should totally take an offering and/or make the whole event a fundraiser for a good secular cause. Why miss out on another great opportunity to help others? (Please do not try to actually profit from my death. Covering the costs to humor my over-inflated sense of importance is fine, but make sure the rest goes to charity.)

At the end of the three-and-a-half hour extravaganza, people should stay up late talking (and not necessarily about me) and then go out for (probably a very late) brunch the next morning. The more time for old friends and complete strangers to learn from each other, the better. Don’t forget those name tags.

Then, get on with your lives, please.

Remember: No afterlife, no prayer, no Bible readings, and no burial, but plenty of drinking and debauchery is fine. And just do good works. I wasn’t a saint, but neither are you.

Carry on (but with my love in your hearts),

Zack

On a cloudy Fall day, I walked out my classroom door and onto the blacktop with several of my classmates demanding equality. Organized only the previous day over the weekly famous chicken nugget Tuesday around a lunch room table with crayola markers in hand, I had held my first activist meeting unknowingly in 5th grade. Our local elementary school custodian who was near retirement age lost his small office space inside the boiler room—also known as the “Toy Hospital”—and was being forced to work longer hours that would prevent him from caring for his ill wife.

I was disgusted by the lack of compassion for such a committed professional who took extra care to find lost items, shovel mazes in the playground in the snow, fix broken toys, and always offer a smile with a helping hand. He was the grandfather of the school and was loved by many. The new school administration decided to take an approach that custodians were not in fact “real” school employees and cut office space use and 9-5 schedules.

On the hard blacktop of the playground that crisp Fall morning, we sat without jackets as my teacher came outside with others to speak to the small group of us on the blacktop. Our demands were simple: give our beloved custodian his office back and let him take care of his family, treating everyone equal. Soon the school principal came outside and told us that we needed to go back to class. Some did while others refused, I asked for a meeting with my school principal and she agreed. Sitting in my prinipcal’s office with all of the large pictures of graduating classes on the walls, I repeated my demands for our beloved custodian.

My principal and I spoke for over an hour and at the end of the conversation she agreed to let the custodian use the bolier room once again as an office space. I did however get comunity service hours for my protest on school grounds and for leaving class, but my prinipcal and I agreed that I may do my community service hours with the custodian helping him around the school. My principal and I also decided to meet weekly on Fridays to discuss the needs of my elementary school. Fridays at 2:00 became one of my most favorite things about Elementary School and many of our talks led to school improvements, committees, and applications that lasted for years after I had moved on to Jr. High and High School.

Today, many years later, I look back at that moment and think of the power that each of us had using our voice to fight intolerance and stand up for equality. No matter how big or how small you are or where you come from, your voice is the most powerful tool to create change.

There is no perfect time or perfect place to stand up for what is right. I think of  Marco Melgoza, Will Phillips, Nkosi Johnson,  David Ashby, Derrick Martin, Ceara Sturgis, Oakleigh Reed and the countless others I wish I had room to write about. All different ages, backgrounds and abilities using their voice to create change each and every day.

All of us can do it.

Take a stand, use your voice and be a fierce advocate for change at any age.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivi4XyAoeB0

A whole lot of people have been saying lately that it gets better. They’re (we’re) not wrong to say that. Life is not a prison, nor a canyon river with only one path.

But one of the ways it gets better is if you make it better for yourself. You have so much strength, so much power. You probably don’t even know it. There is so much you can do to create change in your life, but one of the most fundamental is to just be honest with yourself.

I still remember quite clearly the friend I had who badgered me about coming out. Even though I “knew” I was gay, I didn’t understand that I was gay. I hadn’t come out to myself. I hadn’t figured out that all the sexual and emotional attractions (including legitimate love) I’d had for men meant that I was gay. I thought “gay” was something else, something bad. I knew whatever I was, I wasn’t something bad.

And that’s what my friend hammered into me. I wasn’t being honest with myself. I was denying myself love. I was denying myself sex. I was almost 19 years old and I really hadn’t been out on a real date that meant something to me. I hadn’t flirted with somebody. I hadn’t danced with somebody. I hadn’t felt the heat with somebody. I hadn’t found somebody who loves me because I didn’t love myself.

All I had to say to myself was, “It’s ok.” All I had to do was realize that it all makes sense. “I’m gay,” and the lightbulb goes off. There’s nothing wrong with me, and all those people who don’t get that? They’re the ones with the problem. They’re just plain wrong. They can say the nastiest things and they can even hurt me, but they can never be right.

That’s when it all got better for me. On July 19, 2004, I said to myself, “I’m going to let me be me.” It was like I was reborn, and I don’t even remember who I was before then, because it feels like it was somebody else—somebody who carried this huge weight of guilt and shame for no good reason. I’ve stood proud and confident ever since.

Today is National Coming Out Day. It’s a day when we celebrate this important step in our identity development, the moment when we each break free of the chains of heterosexism. It reminds us that “pride” is about being true to ourselves and owning our identities no matter what the rest of the world says about us.  We are here and we deserve to love and be loved.

A year ago I joined 200,000 on the streets of our nation’s capital to demand that love. I stood with friends, colleagues, allies, and a whole lot of complete strangers in the name of love. While today is not the day for an historic march, it is a day to again stand for that love.

You can only come out when you’re ready, but if you’ve been thinking about it, maybe today’s your day. Maybe today you’re ready. It’s not easy, and it won’t always be rosy, but you will not regret it. And you will never have to stand alone.

So come out, even if it’s just to one person… even if it’s just to yourself.

Make today the day life gets better.

Just take that first step.

Demand love for yourself and you will find it.

It’s episode 25! Peterson and Zack are coming at you live from the campus center at Susquehanna University, where Peterson is currently the Activist in Residence. Just ignore the blender in the background. This week we discuss the recent episode of Glee about religion and the challenges of coming out atheist. Then we get into the concept of activism, how do we encourage it, and what challenges do we face by a generation conditioned by cyber relationships? Don’t forget to join the discussion on our Facebook page (how ironic) and encourage others to do the same! Here’s looking forward to 25 more fabulous episodes of Queer and Queerer!

I write today on behalf of the Central Pennsylvania LGBT community.

We face many challenges in our lives. We can be denied employment, housing and marriage certificates. Our elders live alone and in poverty. Our youth are bullied and living on the street. We are publicly condemned on almost a daily basis.

But our biggest problem is that our neighbors here in central Pennsylvania still don’t know who we are. We are invisible, struggling in silence.

I write today in hopes others can find the courage to take just one step toward creating visibility for our community. It doesn’t require volunteering for the Community Center, reading The Advocate or being well-versed on the Employment Non-Discrimination Act, Proposition 8 or “Don’t ask, don’t tell.” It doesn’t even require the word “pride.”

All it takes is coming out to one person who doesn’t know, flying the rainbow flag for just one day or holding a partner’s hand at a movie.

One small step moves our entire community forward. One step toward dignity is one step away from shame.

Many of our neighbors still aren’t sure what LGBT stands for despite the fact it is a standard identifier for our collection of identities.

If we start to educate, though, they’ll start to appreciate.

ZACK FORD, Newport

Yesterday, I had the privilege to attend the Congressional briefing for the new study from Campus Pride, the 2010 State of Higher Education for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender People. My original plan was to report on the briefing (pics below), but now that I have a copy of the 180+ page study in my hands, I’m going to pour through it and offer a more detailed report next week.

In the meantime, check out the courage of a group of students at the University of Rhode Island who have been protesting sing 12:01 AM yesterday morning until their administrators follow through on promises for LGBT support and campus safety. Matt Comer’s been doing some great coverage on the Campus Pride blog:

» Announcement of protest.
» Protest underway.
» Photos from the protest.
» URI blocks press coverage.
» Protest update and news round-up.

I wish the best for these students. They are advocating for their lives. Keep up the good work!

Here are a few pictures from yesterday’s briefing.

Angela Peoples, Policy and Advocacy Manager for Campus Progress:

Jacob Wilson, student at Iowa State University (and friend of the blog):

Have a good weekend everyone.

Riding the success of his recent premiere, Peterson is traveling the nation performing and educating. Meanwhile Zack is in Washington, DC for a Congressional briefing about LGBT campus climates and is joined by his good old friend Bevin to discuss some campus politics. Having served together as President and Vice President of Campus Affairs in Ithaca College’s student government, they join forces again to tackle some recent happenings at the University of Michigan and Duke University. Of course, watching the season premier of Modern Family had to come first! Enjoy this bonus episode about modern families and some interesting intersections of queer issues in campus governance.

Here’s some more information about what we talked about this week (hat-tip to Towleroad for its coverage):

» Study: Counted Out: Same-Sex Relations and Americans’ Definition of Family

» Towleroad’s coverage of Michigan’s Asst. Attorney General targeting the University of Michigan’s Student Body President.

» Follow the story of ousted Duke College Republican (DCR), Justin Robinette: He was ousted, then harassed, DCR was defunded, the decision was vetoed, and DCR was put on probation.

» Enjoy Modern Family on hulu!

It’s Monday. What’s the big news in the LGBT world? Kind of two biggies I guess…

1) Those crazy Prop 8 proponents filed their 134-page argument to the Circuit of Appeals. I could wade through the whole thing for you if you’d like, but today I just can’t be bothered. It’s the same old nonsense: procreation, victim status, etc. Read the P8TT links, because a lot of others have already dissected it pretty well.

2) Tomorrow the Senate will vote on whether to vote on whether to let Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell be considered for repeal by the Joint Chiefs at a later, uncertain date. And who is getting all the media attention to affect this cloture vote? Lady Gaga.

Kudos to Gaga, really. She’s taking this pretty seriously and being strategic about encouraging us Little Monsters to call our Senators and tonight she’s in Maine targeting undecided Senators there.

But I’m frustrated because we’re drowning in politics. If you look at all the groups who are working to support LGBT equality, you see a lot of political strategy (lobbying, direct action political pressure, support for gay candidates, support for gay-friendly candidates, gay Republicans who don’t care about LGBT issues) and legal efforts. Where is the education? Who’s doing it? Our Community Centers get really lousy financial support and currently only reach a few metropolitan areas.  They do great work, but with what they have to work with, they’re barely making dents.

I live in Middle America. Where I live I face housing discrimination, employment discrimination, and marriage discrimination. Sure I can stream LOGO and watch Will & Grace reruns on Lifetime, but my area is still unwelcoming for queer folks and there is minimal queer visibility. But of course, a vote on a vote on a potential repeal and an election of lesser evils have to be our main priority so that six years from now we can elect a President with the same talking points that we loved about this one. I have to be patient; it’s not our turn yet. We’re still stuck on survival and just getting by on the scraps of victory we can get.

Well, when does anyone educate Middle America? Our movement is all about money and influence. And money. But decades of money and influence haven’t really changed life out here in the sticks. Who’s going to start educating people outside of the maybe-six gay haven cities? Where’s the national campaign to say, “All those things you believe about homosexuality? You’re wrong.”

Frankly, at this point, I struggle to even care about this DADT vote. It’s not real repeal—there’s no end to discharges in sight—but we’re such scaredy cats we’re not even sure if Senator Reid should take the vote if he isn’t sure he has the votes. All that work to get nowhere because of the importance of the midterm elections. Meanwhile, to their credit, the Log Cabin Republicans were getting the law declared unconstitutional on its face while the rest of us (myself ashamedly included) weren’t even paying attention. Of course, the LCRs never hedge on supporting Republicans whether they’re anti-gay or not, so we had reason not to trust them, but they showed us just how inefficient we can be with both our time and money, especially since we’re still not sure whether we have the votes for a vote that doesn’t even repeal. But hey, we’ve got Lady Gaga on our side. That’ll make the difference.

I’m not seeing it. I’m not seeing change. What I do see are schools that have unchangingly negative climates. I see universities that have unchangingly negative climates. I see communities that have unchangingly negative climates. I see the same old myths and stereotypes perpetuated with the same full force and getting the same full attention by the media.

And I can’t help but worry that on the day that all the legal victories are secure, the work will end, as if that’s all it takes. In the meantime, Middle America continues to be a wasteland for real LGBT change.

My work is just beginning.

(By the way, this post is just me talking about myself, so if you’re here for news or commentary, sorry! But hey, I might end up saying something poignant about life—you never know.)

Year 25 was definitely unlike any previous year of my life. It was the first full year that I did not live my life according to prescription. There were the 18 years of grade school and the 6 of higher education, and then I got this wacky year where nothing was according to plan. What a good thing that was!

You know, I could easily bemoan the economy and the challenges of the job search, and certainly there are those out there eager to mock me for it. A full year has passed and you still don’t have a real job, Zack? Yeah, it’s true. Get over it. It’s actually been a great year, because I’ve had to find a way to make meaning of my life despite not fitting the mold I’d always had in my head for how it was supposed to progress.

It’s fun having a September birthday, because I can measure years of my life parallel to school years. This was my first non-school year (and hopefully my last). But the Fall still brought very important changes, because it was at the beginning of October when I launched the redesign of my blog. Two weeks later I was reporting from the National Equality March. Suddenly, I felt like I had a legitimate blog and I was connecting with other bloggers and activists who were excited about my work. It might not sound like much, but those changes really set the tone for the year that went on to include the Prop 8 Trial, Creating Change, working for the Central PA LGBT Center, developing the Queer and Queerer Podcast with Peterson, and Netroots Nation.

In some ways, it’s kind of felt like an intermission, but in other ways, it’s just been a refreshing break. I think we all need to take time to explore life and find ourselves in spite of what anyone wants for us. Heck, it wasn’t what I wanted for myself, but I definitely have no regrets!

In addition to being a test of creativity in the absence of structure, it was also a test of resiliency. If you had asked me on September 8, 2009 if I would still be confident and optimistic if a year later I still didn’t have a job that put my degree to use, I probably wouldn’t have been thrilled with speculating. But here I am, and I have so much work to be proud of, even if I’m not “on track.”

Truly, we spend our whole lives reconciling who we are against who others want us to be. In any of these struggles, we come out (often literally) stronger because we believed in ourselves. I can look back on year 25 as a year of transition, but a year in which I stayed true to myself in spite of circumstance. And now I can look forward to a new quarter-century with a piece of myself that I never would have known I had.

Cheers to you my friends and readers, and everyone who has been a part of my life! Cheers to life! Cheers to making it work!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ch0BALz2wnE