I’m on the second (or technically third if you include our stint in Boston) day of the Right to Serve Tour. In order to protest the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy of the U.S. Military, about 20 Harvard students and I are busing around the East Coast doing sit-ins at military recruitment centers and trying to talk with Senators to encourage them to introduce a bill in order to repeal DADT.

I had some discomfort signing up for the trip only because everything military makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I felt that somehow supporting LGBT people’s right to serve openly means that I am pro-military. I assumed however, that for most people on the trip it would be much more about the bigger picture of LGBT rights and our treatment as second class citizens not deserving of equal treatment, and less about the military specifically. I have felt however, that there is pressure to respond to the press as if we are all here because we want to serve or might be interested if we knew it was an option for us or else we will not be taken seriously. I figure that because of my immediate rejection of all topics military, I’m very uneducated about this topic, and this week will be a good educational experience. I have learned a lot about the military so that I can speak about it more knowledgeably, but I will never claim that I am here because I have any interest in signing up or seeing any of my LGBT friends do so.

I have also found myself uncomfortable with how easily as a group we have fallen into using pro-military rhetoric without really thinking it through. One sign that we held yesterday at the memorial day parade in Old Orchard Beach, Maine as we tried to intercept Senator Susan Collins read “Gay troops support America. Do we support them?” I realize that the military itself has the potential for good such as in disaster relief and the ending of WWII. I also realize that until there are no countries with militaries, the United States is going to have one so it does no good to pretend it doesn’t exist, and instead should be engaged with and reformed. There are so many things wrong with our current military (such as the military’s current involvement in world affairs, the way soldiers are recruited, the misogynistic and homophobic culture fostered within the military, to name a few) and DADT is just one of those things. The military might support an America (or a corner of it), but it is not the one that I subscribe to, belong to, or want to see supported.

Although I see people’s service in the military as much more a detriment than benefit to the world I live in (and the world I want to see/take part in creating), I still believe that forcing a person to live closeted is a huge disservice to that person as a human being, as well as a hugely symbolic disservice to the LGBT community. The main reason for DADT is that it is predicted that the existence of openly gay troops in the military will lower “team morale.” This is where my unequivocal, forceful support of our trip comes in. The government’s official and legal stance on LGBT people is that when allowed to talk openly about our loved ones, we only cause discomfort and are therefore a hindrance to team building. There is something very very wrong there.

This becomes clearer when I hear things such as Senator Susan Collins’ speech after the Memorial Day parade on Monday, where she stressed the importance of not just honoring soldiers but also their families. I don’t remember how she found so many words to praise the existence of happy, wholesome, normal families but I do know that she talked for a good five minutes just on that topic. I couldn’t help but feel more angry with each sentence. Not only within the military, but at every level of the politics of this country, the same kind of supportive, positive vocabulary to describe queer families is completely missing. In fact it’s pretty hard to make a community feel respected when the basic right (marriage) allowing them to create what is broadly understood as a legal (healthy) family, is denied in 48 states. And we all probably know how important it is to receive respect from the outside in order to foster it from the inside.

There are only so many times you can see and hear public descriptions of what is “good,” “normal,” “healthy,” as an LGBT person without seeing yourself included in them before you think that you belong on another list somewhere, a list of the unhealthy, secretive, subversive. Talk about mental health issues of the LGBT community (higher suicide rates, higher levels of drug and alcohol abuse); once we are included in public rhetoric as first of all existing and second of all deserving of the same “honoring” as any family, maybe we will start looking at ourselves with the same respect.

I have seen so many examples among my LGBT friends and acquaintances (and lovers) of the effects of this lack of recognition of our sexualities as healthy, and therefore our internalization of the fact that therefore we must be unhealthy, deviant, undeserving of respectful acknowledgment of our queer relationships and families. Although having the legal right to marry someday (in my home state!) is a step, I won’t be satisfied until my loving, compassionate, consensual relationships are recognized as just as healthy and beautiful as those of any person, and included in political/public rhetoric as so. For this week I’m willing and excited to engage with something I feel conflicted about with the hopes that it is a small movement in the right direction.

check us out on youtube! (we’ll have others up soon)

you can also check out the right to serve website for more information and links to our news coverage.

www.harvardrighttoserve.org

(That’s my cousin yelling about 60 years of militarism, chauvinism and sexism!)

1. I played the L word board game today for the first (and probably last) time. In the game, the photos of the characters are so strange. The trans guy (Max) is femmed up. The (monopoly style) point of the game is to compete with the other characters to spend your money to buy “The Planet,” a cafe that features in the show. Capitalism, femmed up male identified queers… and me and my teammate had to sit out a turn because we were “leaping lesbians” and “lost our handbag on the cruise.” I get it: all rich and overly sexed femme queers carry hangbags, go on cruises, and have instant money they use while spending all of their time competing with each other and getting laid. That’s what I call a cooperative vision for a better world. Don’t you just love what capitalism does to queerness? I sure do.

2. I am newly obsessed with this video by awesome Athens Boys Choir. Check it out:

(Except for no POCs. Thoughts?)

Cause I got a V- to the – A- G-I-N-A but no P-E-N-I-S- ENVY, cause for real tho- i got a dildo, i got two dildos, i got three dildos.

3. I’m heading to P-town for Women’s Weekend this weekend with a bunch of queer friends. I’ll update upon my return. I expect a bunch of early 40′s popped-collar sports dykes… but why speculate? We’ll know soon enough.

4. Today I was really missing loving physical contact. Somehow the people around me sensed that (maybe it has to do with me talking about it with them?) and I got a friendly snuggle, a backrub, and many hugs. I really felt like my depths were being healed a little bit with this warm and loving physical contact. This makes me want to talk about something I think about a lot: I feel like friendly and warm physical love is not enough a part of the culture of which I am a part (and I feel like my subcultures and communities are probably far more supportive of physical closeness and friend love than most others in the place and time that I inhabit.) There is something really profound to me about being held and holding for the very sake of being held and holding someone I care about, and I do not think that this gets enough attention. At the beginning of the school year my friends at I at the student coop used to have cuddle piles and parties where we would hold each other and be warm together in groups, which was really wonderful. Perhaps we can reinstigate this ritual? Let’s make it a revolution! Cuddlers, spooners, want to be held-ers, want to hold-ers, feelers, givers, takers, lovers: let’s be there with each other! (Please remember that the number one most respectful, beautiful, loving, and sexy way to engage with another is to always ask first! Snuggling and loving is good when everybody involved wants to be there and engage, and we can’t know that without asking first!)

5. I am a part of an organization called Resource Generation that I really want to spotlight and talk about here- to spread the word.

So often, in social justice circles, I find that I tend to hide the fact that I have access to lots of wealth and resources. I think it’s important as a young person with wealth who cares about social justice that I do not hide that I have access to wealth but rather than I share my resources and connections to benefit social justice movements and that I challenge myself (with the help of those around me) to align my practice with my ideologies and beliefs. This organization is really great because it provides spaces for young people with wealth who are invested in social justice to come together and engage in discussion, thinking, challenging, acting, and learning around social responsibility as a young person with wealth. I go to monthly dinner potluck discussion meetings and talks and would love to go together if anybody is interested. I can be reached at noa.grayevsky@gmail.com, so feel free to email if you are interested of have any questions about this movement.

6. I’m trying to decide what to do about my piercings and the HBomb photos that are up in my room when my family visits for graduation in a couple of weeks. My mother has very strong negative feelings about my septum piercing (and my other piercings, and my hairy legs, and short hair, and hairy armpits, and sportsbras, and boys clothes, and gender ambiguous partners). I recently pointed out to her that though to her these things seem superficial and changeable and that’s why it really doesn’t seem like a big deal to her to constantly point them out to me as ugly and despicable, they all add up to give me a queer presentation, and that queer presentation feels very central to my identity and self hood. Thus, nit picking these parts of me is an unfair tactic that leaves me seeming like I am overreacting to some motherly comment about leg shaving (don’t all mothers want their daughters to have smooth legs? Maybe that’s why I haven’t found the nice Jewish American doctor my grandparents want me to marry and make children with so that we can help populate the holy land) when I feel like my self and my loving of others are being attacked on some fundamental level. Which is why I hate that I will probably take out my septum piercing when she comes to avoid awkwardness and anger- but where do we draw the line? When is it best to maintain peace within the family or community at the expense of internal turmoil due to an act that feels like it is disloyal to personal identity? When do we decide to take up the space we deserve even when it makes those we love radically uncomfortable? What do you think? What have you done in your life? Do you have any stories to share? I would love to hear them.

The photograph on my wall of me with a strap on and mustache drinking a beer next to a topless female-bodied friend may just be where we need to draw the line. Man (no pun intended), I hate lines- I don’t want to box myself in. Or you for that matter. I want to let my belly hang. No sucking in. No changing ourselves, myself, to fit within the lines that make other people comfortable. But I just might, nonetheless

7. Last but not least (7 reflections for this 7 day period): In a reflection form on my time at Harvard which I filled out today in preparation for my graduation, I was asked the following question by Harvard and gave the following answer:

8. What do you appreciate most about your time here at Harvard?

Finding communities that I love, feeling radically validated within those spaces, and learning (in many ways through being within the larger institution of Harvard) more about the ways in which elitist, racist, classist, heterosexist, and mysoginist institutions (such as this one) work to create and reinforce the material and more abstract inequalities between people that I want to help to change by working for and with others (including you).

I wonder if they plan to publish that in graduation paperwork? Read it in front of parents?

I was hanging out with a very close friend today (who is a brilliant blogger on this here community blog) who pointed out that if her answer to this question were going to be publicly shared she could not say what she really thinks/ feels. I am wondering what you really think/ feel. There are no good/ bad/ right/ wrong answers here (or anywhere, mostly. Thanks Postmodernism.)

Until next week, with QUEER STRAP-ON NAKED HONEST SNUGGLING LOVING GENDER VARIANT CAPITALIST CHALLENGING SELF ASSERTING CLASS AWARE WOMAN LOVING TRANS POSITIVE love-

and sincerely.

Before peacing out, I wanted to leave you with this delightful video.

Hat tip to my fellow co-opper, AMZB.

Have a great weekend, y’all, and be safe!

Below the fold, an email from folks in Chicago who put their heads together, so to speak, to support the Day of Expungement in New Orleans. Co-sponsored by Safe Streets/Strong Communities, Critical Resistance, and the Orleans Public Defenders, Expungement Day was part of an ongoing movement to counter the racist criminal justice system and help communities flourish.

Recently I’ve been re-reading Saul Alinsky’s Rules For Radicals (using it to analyze Bram Stoker’s Dracula for my English class — good times), and I’ve gotta say, despite the flaws in his philosophy, the book is beautifully written, and there are some real gems in there. The creativity and good humor of this Chicago fundraiser exemplify the spirit of his sixth rule of power tactics: “A good tactic is one that your people enjoy. If your people are not having a ball doing it, there is something very wrong with the tactic” (128). An important sentiment to keep in mind, I think, especially when student organizing so often reverts to the same old speak-outs and die-ins, marches and petitions. I mean, Alinsky and his crew once bought up all the tickets to an enemy-owned symphony, hosted a potluck feast of baked beans beforehand, and then farted their way through the whole concert. Now that’s a tactic.

Anyhow, read, enjoy, and see y’all next week!

Hey folks,

Just dropping a line to let you know that the fundraiser in Chicago for the Day of Expungement was last weekend and it was a smashing success! We raised $1000 at the party and raised another $1000 through a matching donation.

Lydia asked me to write a little more about the process of planning so that the work goes on record and we can share some strategies as this was a really successful event. If folks in other cities ever want to talk strategies for this kind of thing, I have done lots of these kinds of events at low costs and with varying success and enjoy discussing it.

Here’s how the Big Gay Beauty Parlor effort happened:

I discussed Day of Expungement initially with two fab friends: a lawyer and a bartender. They were excited for the cause of expungements in NOLA and the cause of party-throwing. The three of us determined our theme of “Big Gay Beauty Parlor”–the party theme included haircuts, massages, manicures, hairstyling and facial hair application in the door charge, as well as a cash bar and DJs. Then, we recruited a bunch of friends to volunteer to provide these services at the party–probably about 12 people total including bartenders, hosts etc. Recruiting volunteers from different social circles is a great tactic for bringing in more people.

We held the party at a friend’s house (another social circle) close to transit and charged $5-15 at the door, no one turned away. It was a HUGE mess (hair everywhere) but it was awesome: about 80 people attended, people were very generous at the door, massages and haircuts were given all night…

Beforehand we reached out to Critical Resistance and Tamms Year Ten, two of the organizations doing radical prison/criminal justice related work in Chicago . They were very supportive and had their materials at the event as well as spreading the word to people involved in their campaigns.

I also reached out to a few individuals to let them know that I was throwing this party with a goal of raising $1000 and asking whether they could contribute anything to that goal ahead of time. Out of that came the offer to match the donation–that sure doesn’t happen every day but I’m really glad I asked…

That’s it in a nutshell. Folks here were really, really pumped about supporting NOLA in this way and I am really grateful to the ARWG for helping keep me/us connected and active up here!

Thanks yall,

Lewis

and that is why words have far more meanings than their dictionary definitions would suggest. the word “man” means one thing when it is used by a white, racist woman (who need not know herself as racist, and probably would vehemently deny her racism anyway) to refer to her white husband, and another thing when it is used by the same woman to refer to a black man. in fact, she could not comfortably exist unless she allowed “man” to mean something different in these two contexts. to her, “black man” stands in for “boy.”

that is why the slogan “i AM a man.” makes sense.

were the anonymous internet poster who issued the following words to refer to a group of white people using the word “folks”…that word would point to a very different meaning than the one it points to here (i’ve used this quote before but it is so exceptionally racist i can’t help myself):

Black representation at the low-scoring end of the IQ scale has strong implications for society. At least 25 percent of Blacks are below 75 in IQ, and an IQ in the 70-75 range is classified as “borderline retarded” by most psychologists. Practically no one in that IQ range will graduate from high school or even learn much of elementary school basics; none will qualify for the armed forces, and few will be able to find good employment.
They therefore take to violence or mobs to feel accepted.
I am of the opinion that these folks can be helped.

amiri bakara’s/leroi jones’ dutchman is the quintessential example.

when lula calls clay a “man,” she means a black man, an uppity n*gg*r in a three piece suit. when lula calls clay a “man,” she uses the word ironically…though nothing in her manner would betray as much (until she begins to reveal herself as deeply racist).

when clay hears lula call him a “man” he (initially) chooses to hear “man” as “man.” he initially chooses to hear lula’s word “you” as “you, clay, the individual”…not “you people.” i say he chooses because clay knows that there is a level on which he may read lula’s words as racist, but in order to preserve his own sanity, in order to remain a self-proclaimed but non-murderous, semi-functional “fool,” he gives her the benefit of the doubt.

i and most others, if we thought about it, would acknowledge that we make clay’s choice. if we actually fully internalized the extent to which our humanness is not appreciated by others, sanity would be quite hard to maintain. the pain of life would be unbearable. therefore, we take in others’ words not as they are intended by their issuers, but as we wish them to be intended.

and because this is true, all of us literally get away with murder in our daily interactions. i can call you “you” without fearing that you will understand what i truly mean by “you”…and in so doing, i kill your humanity in my mind. conversely, you kill me every time you call me “you.” every time i am something other than an “i” to you. as i outline in “the nature of empathy,” the subject-object divide (so long as we perceive its existence) destroys the possibility for authentic honoring of the Other’s humanness.

you can call me a “woman” because i call myself a woman, even if my “woman” is radically different from your “woman.”

politicians can claim not to be racist because they use the word “people” to refer to people of color.

words convey meaning. indeed they do. but we must look into and beyond the words.

if we are interested in plunging into the soul-destroying insanity, there are languages within languages within languages to be found. if we are not, nothing can change.

Last Friday night some friends and I went to check out Guerilla Queer Bar. In case you haven’t heard of it, this is a monthly occurrence here in Boston in which 1, 500 or so queers and allies are notified via an email list at the last minute which straight and misogynistic club we are going to show up at, with the hopes of overrunning the place.

This time, The Liquor Store was the target. I had never been there before, despite hearing that some Harvard events have taken place at this venue in the past. The place was in part chosen this time around because on the same night they were having a wet t shirt contest and a mechanical bull riding contest (I feel that the sarcastically toned feminist rampage i feel an urge to place here is unnecessary. I have faith, in you, reader. You get the picture. Or at least you see the picture right above.)

I went for several reasons. Firstly, as one of the event organizers is a friend of mine, I had heard that last month the bar of choice refused to let the queers and allies upstairs, and had only allowed them out of the building one at a time to smoke. It’s easy to forget that blatant homophobia exists completely unchecked and un-self aware when only frequenting queer friendly spaces, or at the least, surrounding myself with queer-friendly people to shield me from the structural homophobia in the institutions I choose to inhabit nonetheless. (This is a good place to insert a shout-out for two of my favorite QUEER and QUEER CELEBRATORY dance nights Boston: Gross Anatomy and The Neighborhood- which is happening this upcoming Saturday night.) And so, as hearing this enraged me, and I was filled with HOMO-militant desire to be a body in the loving struggle towards claiming woman hating and queer hating spaces as our own.

Secondly, I have a friend who really wanted to go as well. Her enthusiasm definitely sparked my own. I was particularly excited that as a straight ally she felt excited and also felt the need for this kind of social reclamation of queer and woman-positive space. (I also, I admit, tend to feel surprised and very excited whenever a behaviorally straight person in my life shows an authentic desire and willingness to enter queer space with me. I think that this is- again, i tangent- a response inspired by my internalized homophobia. Yes, even I have some of it. I have had this response historically with many female friends- feeling thankful that they would treat me, a queer person, and my spaces as though we are comfortable, “normal,” good, healthy. It also manifests itself when I feel an enormous amount of self-consciousness being physically close with “straight” female friends immediately followed by a feeling of overwhelming gratitude that they, and this includes this friend in particular, are not concerned that I, the faggot/queer/dyke/genderqueer, will pray on them sexually.)

Before we left our lovely home, my friend and I tried to convince a group of close friends to come with us. None of them seemed particularly excited to join. They voiced concerns about supporting the misogynistic club financially and not enjoying the space or culture of the club. A different friend of mine told me earlier in the day when I tried to convince hir to go with me that whenever ze walks around that part of time at night ze feels a hate crime about to happen. My friend and I decided to give it a shot nonetheless, hoping not to miss a spectacle at the least. And so, after seeing the place’s dress code delineated in an email (please note that they do not allow athletic wear but do encourage, based on the photographs, female nudity), I changed out of my super-awesome teal spandex and neon yellow sneakers and into some black pants and the farthest thing I own from athletic-wear in terms of footwear, some black converse. And off we went.

Upon our arrival the line was wrapped around the building. It was before ten P.M. and I recognized many of the stealth queer people in line. Dressed in collared shirts and black leather shoes, I hardly even recognized them. Luckily for my friend and I, I had good friends who arrived long before we did, and were at the very front of the line. We ran up front and joined them. It turned out that my black canvas shoes, in fact, did count as “athletic wear” to the bouncer (at this point I also wonder if my septum piercing and short hair made my shoes look more athletic, but, speculation will really get us nowhere at this point.) Lucky for me, another friend of ours (this one with black leather shoes?) was also told that his shoes were too athletic. So my friend from school, my friend with the athletic shoes, and our five or six other acceptably clad queer friends decided to ditch The Liquor Store and head to a lesbian club night around the corner, called Pure (of which I have my own criticisms, but those will have to wait).

My frustration upon confronting the reality of the situation allowed me to move from romanticizing it into being able to see it in a more critical light. My Co-op friends were right. Had we have been able to get into The Liquor Store, we would have each paid $8 to support their exclusion of “queer looking” or “nonconforming” people and the misogynistic and woman-objectifying spirit of their space. We would have, also, been actively withholding those funds from the queer night around the corner, which is not even established enough to have its own space (to the extent of my understanding there is absolutely no queer woman’s or trans social space in Boston owned and run by queer people for queer people. Talk about illustrations of the way that power plays into the acquisition and control of space.)

I also ended up hearing from my roommate, who did get into The Liquor Store, that despite the incredibly high population of non-conformist queers and allies who went with the intention of disrupting the misogynist display of female objectification and the hyper-normative exclusion of anybody outside of a rigid gender binary the prevailing culture ended up ruling. That is to say that a group of queers who had to dress as The Liquor Store told them to enter and had to pay for the privilege to be a part of the space ended up without the power to create the kind of disruption in the hegemonic culture that they, at least for the most part, had intended. This just goes to show that when we let those in power dictate to us how we need to dress in order to get in, make us change to conform to their standards in order to attempt to reclaim space, we (our Selves) are in hiding and in that way end up not taking up any of the space we deserve, at all.

Next time I will put my money (oh, capitalism), my voice, my teal stretch pants, and my strap-on in the spaces that I believe in and want to see flourish. I will try to give power and rise to my place in emerging spaces that I believe in, and I will hope (as Andrea Smith said in a powerful talk she gave this year at the National Students of Cooperative Organizing conference in Ann Arbor, MI) that if I continue to do this with passion, fervor, sweat, and laughter and that if you do, too, we will eventually begin to make the change we want to see in the distribution of safety and space amongst people by crowding out those spaces that crowd the rest of us out.

No dress codes here, friends. Welcome to the revolution.

$341.1 million per day

5 years of war

49 Iraqi civilians dead per day

PEACE NOW!

absolute empathy/understanding can only take place in the space outside imagination, a space of pure feeling. that absolute empathy/understanding ceases to be empathy/understanding (which requires a subject and object) because it has become Enlightenment.

imagination, however, is the tool by which we move our pre/post-imagined understandings closer to that absolute.

language provides a good example. i am not fluent in french, yet i know some french words.

when i hear “avec” i know it means “with.”
when i hear “peut-être” i know it means “maybe.”
when i hear “je suis” i know it means “i am.”

but “with” is transparent to me, while “avec” is mediated, cloudy.

when i draw on the word “with,” i experience the word as though it does not symbolize the meaning of “with”…rather, the meaning and the word are one.

i understand “avec” by way of analogy, through its relationship to “with.” i say to myself “‘avec’ connects to the same meaning in the head of someone who speaks french that ‘with’ connects to in mine.” this is the significance of saying “‘avec’ means ‘with.’” if i were fluent in french i could still say, “‘avec’ means ‘with.’” but i could just as truthfully say “‘avec’ means ‘avec’.”

when i consider the president, or my mother, or the chinese, or the french, or billerica memorial high school students, or eddie izzard, or the protagonist in a movie i’m watching, or one of my friends (and i empathize with these people to widely varying degrees), i understand them as people through analogy, through their relationship to me. and conversely, i understand myself as a person through my relationship to them.

i seem to exist looking out at/touching the world through a body. when i type, i cannot see my own face. i look down at my hands. i will sometimes walk by a mirror and feel stunned by my own image. i do not imagine myself as a face. yet a face, i have…as the mirror reminds me. often, when i think, i do not say to myself “i am thinking”…i simply think. similarly, i feel–forces and chemicals in me move–before i say “i am feeling (anger, joy, disgust etc.)” yet there is never a time when i find myself looking down at another person’s typing hands, through their eyes. when i consider other people, i imagine their faces. when eddie izzard says “i am thinking”, i imagine that what he calls “thinking” must refer to something in him that is like what i have learned to call “thinking” in myself. i imagine talking to others, or perhaps i practice what has so often been called empathy: i “imagine myself in their shoes.”

that is why “thinking” means something different in each of the following sentences:

“eddie izzard is thinking.”
“i am thinking.”

that is why “a person” means something different in each of the following sentences:

“he is a person.”
“i am a person.”

for those of us who are fluent in english and not french: “[he is] a person” is to “avec” as “[i am ] a person” is to “with.”

i realize that other people must similarly imagine me in this way. that to everyone except me, i am a face. i am an Other.

intellectually, i understand that others’ “with” is actually “avec.” intellectually, i understand that others may look down at their own hands. but all of this takes place in the realm of imagination.

i am the observer and interpreter.

i am the referent.

in the world as it is i am the referent and i am not. we are all referents. we are separate and we are not. to truly honor and do justice to Others, i must strive, asymptotically, for fluency, for feeling, for pre-imagined appreciation of the meaning literally behind their faces, which i imagine (and i use the word deliberately) will close the gap that separates me from all others.

i (insofar as “i” exist) must strive to close the space between “[he is] a person” and “[i am ] a person.”