Kool-Aid

Growing up gay, I learned of gender specific identities. I was never confused about myself. I was confused by people telling me to play foot ball with Scott when I wanted to play beauty shop with his sister. I didn’t understand why gender defined what games I should play.
My continued interest in gender roles, in a world of Ryan Seacrest and Jamie Lee Curtis, took me to a medical discussion about intersex births. The speaker said “Think of gender like a rainbow, with more than two colors”. One of 1500 births are intersex, a variety of conditions in which a person is born with an anatomy that does not fit the typical definition of boy or girl. It goes way beyond the X and Y chromosomes.
What games do they play? Once considered a birth defect the undetermined gender was assigned. The children were surgically altered to appear as girls, because it was easier. The nurture over nature theory did not work. Once shrouded in secrecy and shame and now with adult voices, science is forced to listen.
So to understand the social importance of gender being clearly defined I read the Christian book “Wild at heart” by John Eldredge. The book suggests that men are born to fight a battle, live an adventure and rescue a beauty. Boys are wild warriors seeking masculine nurturing to initiate us into manhood. We become fearless warriors fighting evil on earth and making love to only our wives, or we become ‘nice guys’. If not ushered into our warrior selves we become prone to porn, addictions and homosexuality. It took 150 pages but he got there.
To only seek information that agrees with what I already believe is not my style. I like to challenge my convictions and dared John Eldredge to make me drink his Kool-Aid. The book implies that gender is defined by God and born in our hearts. To vary is evil. Science has proved gender is more than our bodies. Both ask the same question. What is in your heart?
What belief system governs the rules of gender? Is it divine or is it ego? God might be telling us something. Are we ‘man’ enough to listen? As a boy I played the games I liked. I tried camping and fishing but preferred styling my parents dinner parties. If we are to bear the image of God it is in our heart, not our pants. Does it matter what games we play if we hear God’s voice?

Oh say can you see...

“Oh say can you see, by the dawns early light…” A question asked at dawn. After studying the song in a music theory class and later a poetry class I gained a better understanding of the meaning. I wonder what it must have been like to look into the distance hoping to see that star spangled banner. Woven in it’s cloth a quest for independence, sewn with the thread of an entire people’s willingness to die. The song is begging for a reminder that hope is alive.
I’m grateful to live in a country that let me leave a career to pursue my own happiness. The rights I wallow in are in no small part due to wars fought years ago. I’ve often asked what I’m willing to die for. My thoughts went there because of all things the Gay Pride Parade in Chicago. A funny thing happened that day. I was proud.
My preconceived notions of the event included everything you’ve seen on TV. The roller skating transvestite wore only a snake. We saw lots of Drag Queens. Some of the spectacle was my objection to going at all. “They only show the stuff that gives us all a bad name” I’ve said. Hearing my own judgmental voice reminded me that we were here because we are judged. On the street with thousands of my people around me I had to let go of judging anyone.
The float of Gay Veterans passed by, it struck me as odd. Juxtaposed to this cocktail party, was something that gave meaning to our presence there that day. I noticed missing arms and legs, the unforgettable reminders of loss and courage. Like none I’ve had to know. Because of these brave people we have the same 75% of the liberties given the heterosexuals that fought with them.
There I was, among the gaudy display of individuality having a patriotic moment. Not sure if I should sing the National Anthem or tuck a buck in the pants of the bare-chested Gay Fireman floating by. It was the Proud Parents of Gay Children that brought tears to my eyes. Inappropriate as it was I cried. I reached for the man I can not marry. We stood together watching the crowd.
To have gone more concerned about my Prada hat than Civil Liberties and leave feeling proud and empowered was the point I think. To share the hopes of equality with thousands of likeminded people gives new meaning to an old song.
Where is my allegiance? Although I have no answer I feel like a better Gay, Prada hat wearing, and American human being for asking.