Meet Steve

Miami Herald staff writer Steve Rothaus covers gay and lesbian issues in South Florida. Steve joined The Herald in 1985, while a journalism major at Florida International University. He came out at work in 1987 and served five years as a board member of the National Lesbian & Gay Journalists Association (NLGJA). He founded the association's Newsroom Outreach Project and traveled the country visiting newspapers, television stations and college campuses to discuss gay news coverage and workplace issues. Steve won the 1998 GLAAD Media Award for outstanding newspaper columnist.

Steve and public relations executive Ric Katz, partners since 1985, live in Miami.

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Last night I contacted Steve after reading his article about gay Mennonites protesting at the Mennonite Church USA conference in Columbus, Ohio. Less than twelve hours later he graciously gave me permission to make him a face of the day. Thanks Steve! Hmmmm... that's my second Steve. Any Adams?

A teacher's perspective on bullying, and a political question

I have a good friend who's a teacher in a New York City school, so I asked him for his thoughts on the NYCLU article that I wrote about yesterday. Here is his response.

Hey Hugh,

I see a lot of bullying in my high school though it is often not because of bias. The students at [my school] are surprisingly open to students of different backgrounds (though these are somewhat of a minority). The problems in our school often revolve around gang activity and bullying that stems from that, in many cases it is hard to gather a real motivation for the bullying. I report many cases to the Dean's office and the school safety agents though as the article points out not much is done. The environment at [the school] is a unique one, with nearly total male environment, which seems to trigger a lot of this behavior. Unfortunately the administration has failed to make efforts to prevent problems, though I do believe at one time they had a student intervention office that handled things of this nature, and the staff has had professional development session that addressed bullying, though only briefly.

The worst effect I have observed to be when good students start skipping school out of fear, and that is unacceptable. The article is right; the DOE needs to do more!

This crystallized something that was bugging me about the white paper: it focuses on minority groups to the extent that one might interpret those groups as wanting special treatment. I picture a father in Brooklyn whose kid is in the hospital for no other reason than a gang at school decided to kick the crap out of him. He gets wind of that white paper and says to himself "Great, they're giving special protection to the fags but my kid gets fuck all." I wouldn't agree with that man's assumptions, because I recognize the need to protect minority groups who are riper targets for bullying. But that doesn't change the fact that we're going to lose that guy. From that moment on, that guy will not give LGBT concerns a second thought in his voting choices, and if there are enough of those guys out there, the result will be less protection for LGBT youths. Right or wrong, we have to consider that guy, and make it painfully clear that we're concerned for his kid as well as our own target group.

The last paragraph is nothing but the gut reaction of a guy who knows almost nothing about politics. But my question that arises from it seems worth asking: Is there a formula for all this? Do political operatives have the demographic knowledge to say that if we spend X amount of energy protecting minority groups, we will lose the votes of Y people, which will have Z deleterious effect on those same minority groups? If so, then are we making damned sure that Z never exceeds X?

An Open Letter to Sally Kern, from Philip II of Spain

My dear Representative Kern,

My most felicitous salutations to you. Would that I could speak truly of my hope that this letter finds you happy and healthy, but alas I know all too well your current sorrow. Forgive me my presumption, but I feel I cannot but know your heart, and its heaviness in the face of God's inscrutable trials. After all, your recent public statement of faith exactly mirrored my own exhortations given during one of my greatest trials.

In the beginning of 1588 I sent to inquire of the Marquis of Santa Cruz why my Enterprise had not already delivered God's wrath unto the heretic astride England's throne. The news was far worse than I feared: not only was the Armada a hopeless shambles, but Santa Cruz himself was feebly directing operations from his death bed! Knowing myself to be the instrument of God's will on earth, I never wavered. Upon the poor Marquis' demise I appointed the Duke of Medina Sidonia to lead the Enterprise.

I remember well that, even at this stage, my ministrations echoed your recent statement of faith. Time and again the Duke implored me to appoint someone more appropriate. More appropriate! As though there were any man better suited to leading my Enterprise than one accustomed to administering great swaths of Andalusian countryside, and having blood noble enough to arouse piety in even the roughest seaman! For it was not wooden timbers or iron and brass guns that formed the heart of my great Armada, my dear Representative Kern. It was piety.

Many times I sighed upon opening another thick missive from Medina Sidonia. But each time I smiled, because I knew that this limited man was one of God's instruments in my hands. In response to his endless complaints of logistical conundrums I patiently repeated the simple truth: that, if the men of the Enterprise were pious, God would not allow it to fail. As I wrote to him in the spring of that year,

In the first place, as all victories are the gifts of God Almighty, and the cause we champion is so exclusively His, we may fairly look for His aid and favour, unless by our sins we render ourselves unworthy thereof. You will therefore have to exercise special care that such cause of offence shall be avoided on the Armada, and especially that there shall be no sort of blasphemy. This must be severely enforced, with heavy penalties, in order that the punishment for toleration of such sin may not fall upon all of us. You are going to fight for the cause of our Lord, and for the glory of His Name, and, consequently, He must be worshipped by all, so that His favour may be deserved. This favour is being so fervently besought in all parts that you may go full of encouragement that, by the mercy of God, His forces will be added to your own.

The eyes of the world looked to me on that day. That autumn, when the first of the tattered remnants of my Armada limped back to Santander, those same eyes rolled in derision. And the eyes of history look upon my trials and see nothing but irony. But even when that first messenger spoke to me of the Armada's ruination, I did not falter. For I knew that I was His most Holy Catholic Servant, and if he allowed this Enterprise to fail it was only to make His future victories all the more glorious. And in you, Representative Kern, I see that final, long-awaited glorification of His Name.

I drained the Spanish treasury in my attempts to extirpate the Protestant scourge from God's earth, yet even after my Enterprise was smashed and scattered, Flanders remained in heretical hands. I did not despair, and today I find my faith renewed. I see now that God, in His wisdom, stayed his hand in anticipation of a greater victory: the extirpation of the homosexual menace. God, in His wisdom, will work through you to expunge all Sodomites from your lands, which will blossom into a new Catholic Kingdom that shall surely not suffer the Protestant menace to stand.

In the confident hope of a miracle,

The King

Meet Patrick

I'm a series of contradictions. I was born in Denver and am a city dweller by design, currently residing in a town described by some as "the sticks" and although I've been told I seem so "east coast", I've never lived anywhere other than Colorado. Contrary to the usual Colorado native, I have never been downhill skiing because I can't justify spending hard earned cash to test the theory of natural selection. I spend greater than 40 hours a week working as a computer programmer for a hospital and have my bachelor's degree in Spanish with a minor in Creative Writing, neither of which help me on the job. I love technology and could spend hours in the Apple Store or online. I love music and the art of sound. I even played the clarinet, the violin and have sang in Carnegie Hall and I think Guitar Hero is pure genius. I love digital photography, especially from behind the camera, writing, reading, and living life. I also love my 100 pound chocolate lab, my golden retriever and my life with my partner. I'm honest, trustworthy, and loyal. And if you want to know more, all you have to do is ask.

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I found Patrick's blog after his twitter bio caught my eye.

poet,blogger,tech addict,inspired by life,lover of music, and oh yeah - I'm gay.

As I told him, that casual addendum is at the core of what I’m trying to show people with this blog: that, straight or gay, a person’s sexuality may well not define them. He agreed, and graciously accepted my invitation to be today's face.

I highly recommend checking out Patrick's blog. He and I seem to be on the same wavelength. He's measured, level-headed and respectful. I like that in a person.

Bullying: In My Past and In Our Schools

This morning on twitter I found out from nyclu about an eleven o'clock press conference at Tweed Hall about "bias-based harassment and bullying". This is right up by City Hall, about a ten minute walk from where I work in the financial district, but work was too busy for me to get away. Argh. I wanted to be there because I'm particularly interested in this topic.

The first reason is that I was obese as a kid. I broke the two hundred pound mark by the time I was in sixth grade, and the three hundred pound mark by the time I was in eleventh. School was hell - or at least so I thought. I grew up in a quiet town that was small enough so that, while not everyone knew everyone else, parents were never removed by more than one degree of separation. I never had to deal with the sort of physical violence that some of the kids mentioned below.

The second reason is connected to the first. Whenever I get swept up in something, like I'm swept up in this blog, I remind myself of Maslow's hammer.

When the only tool you have is a hammer, it is tempting to treat everything as if it were a nail.

I tend to see things in terms of bullying because I was bullied. One of the reasons why I react strongly to discrimination and bigotry against gay people is that I see it as bullying behavior. Proposition 8? Classic bully move: The bully isn't satisfied having what he has; he's not satisfied until he takes away what you have.

Is this thought model my hammer? Am I limited by thinking of everything in terms of bullying? I suspect that once I start my volunteer work with Garden State Equality, I'll be better able to answer that question.

But for now, on to the event. It makes for interesting reading, especially the white paper. I have some mixed feelings about DASA, especially when I read things like this.

Ashanta Woodley, 15, sees classmates being harassed everyday. Often the bullies aim their barbs at her. “They call me a lot of names, like fat or fat ass,” said Ashanta, a 10th grade student at a Prospect Heights High School in Brooklyn. The taunts hurt and distract Ashanta from her schoolwork. “It’s like everybody is judging you either by your skin or by how you look, they find something to bother you with, and it’s annoying,” she said. “Sometimes when I keep focusing on it, I slip away from my schoolwork so I get low grades.”

I got called "fat ass", and much worse, all the time. I never let it affect my grades. As a matter of fact, it probably helped my grades. I came to identify myself as the socially inept fat kid who gets good grades. I was the opposite of those who made my life miserable, and my anger at them fueled me.

I don't expect my messed-up little psychological construct to apply to all children. What I do expect, though, is school regulation that is enforceable and doesn't reek of mind-control. The police aren't going to swoop in every time an adult calls another adult "faggot". Should we teach our children that they can be protected from words, and that our government should clamp down on everything that comes out of our mouths? Aha! Apparently not.

Finally, DASA includes a definition of bias-based harassment that appropriately balanced the proscription of bias-based harassment with freedom of student speech and expression protected under the First Amendment. DASA prohibits conduct or verbal threats, taunting, intimidation or abuse that “unreasonably and substantially” interfere with a student’s educational performance or opportunity. By contrast, the Chancellor’s Regulation prohibits written, verbal or physical acts that create a “hostile, offensive or intimidating school environment” or “otherwise adversely affect[] a student’s educational opportunities.” This definition of harassment is overbroad and could infringe on First Amendment speech, with the potential effect of punishing the same students that the regulation seeks to protect, such as students who express an unpopular point of view.

OK, that I like. I think we are capable of drawing a line between intimidating behavior and one student calling another "fat ass", and hopefully the words "unreasonably and substantially" compose that line. In any event, it sounds like DASA is more of an accountability tool for what the DOE should be doing already, and it smacks less of mind-control than the existing Chancellor's Regulation. Sounds good to me.

Go in peace.

Last Sunday I attended the 10:00 AM worship at St. Stephen's Episcopal Church in my town of Millburn, NJ. I'm an agnostic, and I have no plans to change that. But, since St. Stephen's was on the list of gay-friendly churches in New Jersey that I'm contacting in hopes of getting faces for this blog, I figured the least I could do was hear what they had to say. The notion of coming over after the service and saying "Hey, wanna hear about my blog?" seemed disrespectful.

I happened to come on an auspicious day for the church: the Bishop of the Diocese of Newark was visiting, and delivering the sermon. He had a warm, amenable and disarming nature, and the sermon he gave actually choked me up. Man, what is happening to me? I'm so emotional lately.

The Bishop preached about Mark 4:35-41, in which Jesus and his disciples are in a boat, a terrible storm whips up while Jesus is asleep in the stern, Jesus calms the storm and rebukes his disciples for their fear, and they're duly impressed. What impressed me was how close the Bishop was coming to presenting this passage as a parable. As an agnostic I expect that from my own brain, but coming from a pulpit I expect more or less a literal (excuse me while I go find a shoehorn, because I really want to squeeze in that word that I had to look up this morning) hermeneutics. (Um. Doesn't quite work, does it? All right, all right.) I expect a more or less literal interpretation.

The Bishop went from talking about the actual storms in Mark to the metaphorical storms inside us. And this is what got me choked up, because boy do I have storms in me. I am so damned angry. Ever since that wedding I've been railing in my head against that minister.

Ever since my teens when I "came out" as an agnostic, I've struggled to own a sense of spirituality. If I hadn't had good friends who saw the spiritual in me despite my unbelief in conventional religion, I think I'd still not have the wherewithal to think of myself as a spiritual being. And here I was, in my thirty-ninth year, contributing my spirit to a consecration of love.

And that miserable shitheel turned the ceremony into a political forum. He couldn't have cheapened it more if he'd slapped Pennzoil stickers on the bridesmaid's dresses. And since that moment, when I think of that minister, a single thought fills my being: "Oh, it's on now, bitch." I didn't have a political bone in my body, but he made me a part of something I consider unclean. He picked up one of those brass measuring weights and put it on one side of a metaphorical scale. And by god, I will put a cinderblock on the other side. Because he brought me into it.

These thoughts were coalescing in my mind as the Bishop spoke. And tears were welling in my eyes because, for the first time, I was acknowledging the force and the weight of my anger. I've worked for fifteen years to divest myself of anger, and there are all too many moments when I feel like I have depressingly little to show for all that work. I get so self-righteously angry at inconsequential things, such as people not respecting my personal space on the commuter train, that it makes me feel small, and terribly unworthy of all my blessings. I don't want this anger. I have to transform it. I have to. That's what this blog is about.

Sunday was also Father's Day, and the church was giving out carnations to fathers and father figures. Proud of the source of stability I've been to my daughter, I took one and wore it. I don't know if the following thoughts were influenced by this or not.

My Dad died last year, and I miss him a lot. He wouldn’t know what to make of this gay advocacy blog; he’s probably snort disdainfully and shrug his shoulders. I’ve started to wonder if part of my passion for this project stems from my feeling that, if I can’t do something my father would agree with, I can at least do something he’d respect just by virtue of the sheer effort and dedication I’m putting into it.

All this was going through my head, and then came the passing of the peace. It was the most sincere and thorough such ritual that I've ever witnessed. It felt great. These folks have a good thing goin' on. And in the middle of it, I met Reverend Cornelius C. Tarplee, the Rector of the church. I'd left him a message about this blog the previous week, so I told him who I was and that I was a bit apprehensive because I wasn't sure if it was appropriate for me to be there. He responded warmly, saying "I'm glad you're here" and promising that we would talk sometime soon. So I'm hopeful that there will be some synergy between this, the project of an unbeliever, and the wishes of his congregation.

After the service, there was a coffee hour. The spread was top-notch; one of the congregants told me that, owing to the Bishop's visit, it was superior to their usual fare. As people were eating, the Bishop gave a talk about four tenets of being a good Episcopal witness. I don't remember them, but what I do remember is his exhortation to tell others "Go in peace." Not only that, but do it when it seems least possible, e.g. when someone cuts you off in traffic. Again, this struck very close to home. I've got a lot of anger where there should be purpose, a lot of self-righteousness where there should be righteousness. Gotta work on that.

Meet Anad

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I met Anad last night in a bar on Christopher Street. He seems like a quiet but intensely thoughtful man. Thinking back on my conversation with him, I'm struck by the fact that he never spoke ill of his family. He has unflattering things to say about Jehovah's Witnesses in general, but amid all his talk about the difficult decisions he's had to make, I got a sense that he never stopped respecting and loving his family.

To me, the funny moment came when we were talking about stereotypes. I remembered that, early in the conversation when I was telling him about this blog, he hesitatingly asked if I was gay. I realized that this flew in the face of my assumption that, as soon as I walked into the bar, everyone there would know I was straight because I'm not well-groomed. I told him this, and he said "Look around." I did, and he said "You're one of the cleaner ones here." It was true. So, so much for that stereotype. Me, one of the better-groomed guys in a room full of gay guys. Imagine that.