To Pee or Not to Pee…

CAROLINA-sheneman

That is the question.

Okay, Christians, you asked for it:

Take your religious freedom and shove it! This is not freaking about YOU! And don’t give me this crap about how these anti-transgender laws provide a “baseline protection” for your religious freedom. There’s already a baseline protection for Christians in this country: being a Christian in this country. 501(c)3s, anyone? It’s on our money, it’s there every time we insist on political candidates “clarifying their views” on faith, and it pops out whenever anybody talking about anything anywhere in government “God blesses” America, as if it’s some sort of spiritual freaking punctuation mark.

In case you don’t get it (and probably haven’t thought about it), preventing the transgendered from using the restroom of their choice is equivalent to insisting that I, a straight male, use the ladies’ room. A transgender woman is a woman, not a man dressed like one; a transgender man is a man, not a woman in disguise. Simple as that. Kind of like a Christian who discriminates against others just because he can is an asshole, no matter how he dresses.

I am tired of wearing kid gloves on this issue. Religious freedom is not about pooping on others; it’s about freedom from getting pooped on by others. It’s about freedom from people like you. So, for the love of God (literally), keep your pooping to yourself. In the restroom of your choice. AS IT SHOULD BE!!!

Coming Out

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I have decided that it’s time for me to come out of the closet. I have been living in denial, dissimulation, and doubt for far too long, and I’m done. It’s time to be honest, with myself and with you. It’s time to embrace who I am and where I’m going, instead of letting others define me for me. It’s time I stood up and stated openly my real identity, without shame, without compromise, without guilt, without fear. It’s time for me to lay my cards on the table and be myself.

I am straight. Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, but I just can’t fight it any longer. I’m straight. All those years in the theater notwithstanding, I am straight. I apologize sincerely to all those I may shock with this revelation, but I have to stand up for who I am. I am a heterosexual. I love women. Well, woman, anyway. My wife. I tried to overcome this attraction, I tried to swallow the urge to marry a person of the opposite sex, but in the end, I had to be who I am. I am a straight, straight man.

There! I said it! It’s done.

And it’s ridiculous.

The idea that anyone should have to “confess” their sexual orientation to the world, as if asking permission to be who they are, is always ridiculous, no matter who the person, no matter what that orientation. If you found my version even slightly superfluous, possibly a bit redundant even, then the same should apply across the board, to all people, everywhere. We are who we are, and the only way that becomes perverted is when we’re forced (or force others) to pretend that we’re not. As Gay Activists Alliance leader Marty Robinson wrote in 1971, “the closet is built in fear, not shame.” And we shove people into it every day.

But (for those of you who panicked when you read the first paragraph of this post), here’s my real “confession”: I love gay men. I also love lesbians, bisexuals, and the transgendered. I am both amused and horrified by those who suggest that I have a choice in the matter. (Or, for that matter, that they do.) I love the fact that I have never met a homosexual who has tried to persuade me that I won’t be truly happy until I become one, too. I have a dear friend who, with his partner (his husband, actually, although they’re not legally entitled to use the term where they live), is preparing to adopt a child, and I love the fact that a man faced with such social revulsion is still capable of giving that much love. I love that they love, and I love that they love in spite of all the people trying to tell them that love is good…except for theirs.

So I’m out, I’m proud, and I refuse to be forced back in.

“Love the sinner, hate the sin,” you tell me. Don’t worry. I do. It’s just not the “sin” you’re thinking of…