In her latest blog at the A.V. Club, Cameron Esposito says that little gay kids push the boundaries of gender on Halloween out of a necessity and a sense of survival. While I may not have recognized it at the time, or at least attached a label to it, I was one of those little gay kids who, as she says, felt something "off about heteronormative culture" and used the holiday to protest it.
The thought behind the outcry being that marriage has always been the exact same institution ever since the dawn of time or at least since the dawn of the Bible. Same-sex marriage, it is argued, is a radical departure from this unbroken tradition. But does the Bible actually present "marriage as an unchanging picture?"
That's when it hit me. All those future Halloweens. I never considered I might not be around for those. Was this the first and last time I would take Clark trick-or-treating? Was this the only costume I would ever see him in?
Fox News helped turn a bogus story about subpoenas sent to a handful of Houston pastors into a national rallying cry for religious liberty. Now the network is helping promote an event that will pit some of the country's most extreme anti-LGBT voices against the city's nondiscrimination ordinance.
I'm still on the frontline: this time for my school. After a long battle to end the oppressive "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy in the military, I wanted to restart my life.
My journey began as a student at Monmouth College, now Monmouth University, where my psychology professor taught me that homosexuality was a serious mental illness.
I have seen a shift in the dialogue regarding LGBT equality, with leaders increasingly examining the business implications of how companies align internal diversity policies with external marketing and public policy advocacy.
Sure, we've grown accustomed to celebrities coming out, some with great fanfare. But businesspeople? It's a rarity. Big businesspeople like Tim Cook? Hardly ever at all. In fact, just a short time ago, BP CEO John Browne resigned for fear of being "outed." That was 2007. My, how times have changed!
The queer saints gather to break bread together, to keep Sabbath, to pray, to watch and witness, to hope, believing in the Beloved Community of unconditional grace that we have not yet seen in fullness -- only in a glass darkly in our queer koinonia. This is true love for God, without self-interest, with nothing left to gain.
It's been a pleasure to contribute to the civil-rights debate, and I've enjoyed the feedback I've received. I realize my analysis is one of many, and the debate has helped me refine my understanding. It has helped when the debate is civil, which it often is not, and that leads me to today's post.
Our queer ancestors, the ones who fought at Stonewall and marched on Washington and were arrested and beaten and murdered for their queerness, weren't battling so that we could be like everyone else. We have never been just like everyone else and I hope we never are.
For a company like Apple to stand at the forefront of diversity and equality issues as well as embracing a prominent gay CEO sends a message to businesses that to succeed, you need to embrace diversity and equality. Tim Cook has instantly made himself a role model for countless gay youth who can now point to a successful openly gay businessman and say, "I can do it too."
The way I see it, the world is an intensely scary place right now. You can keep your American Horror Story gets-ups and your bloody severed corpses -- I have enough drama in my life. I just want to pour myself a glass of some oddly colored punch, binge on Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and stare at some pecs and ass.
Like it or not, actors have a responsibility beyond ourselves. There are still too many young gay people growing up surrounded by hatred, and they need to see well-adjusted, successful gay people who thrive without fear. And there are too many ignorant bigots who also need to see us in all our diversity. Once they do, then maybe we really can do away with labels.
Ten years later in October 2014, nearly all the states on the caravan's itinerary -- California, Nevada, Utah, Wyoming, Colorado, Illinois, Indiana, Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Washington, DC -- have marriage equality.
Traveling to Lewisburg, a town of 3,800 in the Alleghany Mountains, for the Appalachian Queer Film Festival isn't exactly a typical day in West Virginia. Those words combined in the festival's title elicit a similar reaction every time: "Queer? Well, what is queer?" more than a few locals asked.
Half of all states have a mandatory waiting period of 24 hours, but Missouri, South Dakota and Utah took it a step further. And sorry not sorry, if your pregnancy falls on a weekend or holiday, you've got to wait even longer.
We can make the voices of LGBTQ people a part of the conversation about intimate partner violence. Really, we have to. We want DVAM, and all violence prevention efforts, to include and to be led by LGBTQ folks.
This year has made me question a number of things, my love of New York among them. There was a time I thought that love would be forever unwavering. That, along with my love of writing. Love is funny that way, though. It burns and it burns, white-hot, blindingly hot, until it burns itself out. And I'm all burnt out on New York, on writing, on it all.