Got Milk?

It’s not what you think. In 2008, I watched a really good film. I forgot about it in 2009. It resurfaced in 2010—in fact it just found its way into my DVD player last weekend. It did a couple of things for me. 1) It provided a good amount of entertainment and 2) it got me thinking about activism. Outlandish I know, but I’ve always loved the idea of being politically active, however I’ve never really been a “true activist”. Is there even such a thing anymore? With the resurgence of grassroots movements like the “Tea Party”, I started to wonder if activism lost its way or if it’s still alive and present now more than ever?

When I was growing up, I used to listen to stories about how in the 60’s women would burn their bras and march in protest of the war. It’s what America is all about right? Free speech? How powerful it must have been to join a march and have your voice be heard. To stand there as a group and make a real point! My mother used to always say: prayer works better when a group of people do it together. I think the same holds true of a group of people having their voices heard. No worries about what other people might think. No need to justify your actions. You have a group of people backing you and you feel more powerful than ever. I usually don’t argue alone with a group of people who don’t share my beliefs. I feel powerless and useless. I wish I knew that feeling. I wish there were still marches and movements that I could participate in.

With the advent of Facebook and Twitter and other social media devices, I feel activism may have gone astray. It’s easy to create a page on Facebook and it’s really easy to like a page on Facebook. I recently fanned a FB page called Boycott BP. I felt so powerful clicking that like button, but then what? I never boycotted BP. I never used BP in the first place. Hundreds of thousands of users on FB like that page, but does it have the same impact as a full on march or movement?
Where’s Harvey Milk at a time like this. The Gulf is in disarray, there are two wars going on, a tropical system may enter the Gulf spill area soon, and Americans are loosing jobs and homes and self worth along with it. I know we are a strong people. We will bounce back. We’ve been hurt enough and I think it’s time we let our voices be heard. I’m tired of having representatives stand up for us. That obviously doesn’t work. They all have an agenda and the votes they make, the laws they legislate are all done for personal or political gain. Harvey Milk stood up on a box and used a bullhorn to gather crowds of people. It took a while and he wasn’t a politician right away, but he was an inspiration. As you watch him in action, you feel the power. It makes you want to join him. It makes you want to march for America. It makes you feel a glimmer of hope for our nation. I was moved to tears when Harvey got in front of the crowd and said:

“ I am here tonight to say that we will no longer sit quietly in the closet. We must fight. And not only in the Castro, not only in San Francisco, but everywhere the Anitas go. Anita Bryant did not win tonight, Anita Bryant brought us together! She is going to create a national gay force! And the young people in Jackson Mississippi, in Minnesota, in the Richmond, in Woodmere New York, who are hearing her on television, hearing Anita Bryant telling them on television that they are sick, they are wrong, there is no place in this great country for them, no place in this world, they are looking to us for something tonight, and I say, we have got to give them hope!”

It doesn’t matter what you believe or what side of the political fence you sit, I can only hope that we can get America back on track. I pray that someone as bold as Harvey Milk will be found and create a new movement and a new reason to be an American. I only wish I were powerful enough or strong enough to do it myself. If you get anything out of my blog post today, I hope that you get inspired to do the work of people who can’t do it themselves. I wish, pray, and hope that Americans everywhere can get their voices heard and make a difference like our grandparents and parents did in decades past. I leave you with you a quote from a very popular source:

“For where two or more are gathered together in My Name, I am there in the midst of them." -- Matthew 18: 19-20 ---- Even Jesus supports activism and look what he did. Christians everywhere have changed our nation and still gather by the millions each Sunday even after 2000 years.

From Fag to FAB

Since this is my first attempt at blogging in an exceptionally long time, I though it best to first get acquainted, which usually implies that you get to know everything about me starting from the beginning. Feeling privileged much? I hope not to bore you, as I tend to digress (a lot), but I think it’s important to know where a person came from before you understand that person’s outlook. I chose “From Fag to Fab” as my title because that is the best 4 words to describe my journey in life thus far.

It all started in Ville Platte, LA. Yes I spelled it correctly—it is where I’m from. As the name suggests, or as you might imagine, it’s a very small place. When you are different, you tend to stick out like the proverbial sore thumb. The first time someone called me a name was in Mrs. Kim Soileau’s class in 3rd grade. A boy named Josh Soileau looked at me and asked me if I were a queer. I’m not sure if he really knew what he was talking about, because I sure didn’t, so I answered yes because I though maybe we could become friends; he was a cool kid back in the day. Then it all started. Every day a kid would tap me on the shoulder and ask me if I were a boy or a girl. The word fag was thrown around a number of times. Since I wasn’t even sure what gay was or what queer or fag meant, I never told anyone about my daily abuse. I had my mother believing that everyone liked me. I knew I was different, but I didn’t know how or why.

The thought of ending my life occurred to me many times as a teenager, but then I was too weak (some might say gay) to follow through. And besides I love life why would I do such a thing. Having no one to talk to because you fear what they are going to say is one reason.

I bet you’re thinking aww poor thing. Some might think I’m throwing a pity party for myself—when in fact I’m not. Actually I finally realized that if I weren’t a fag, then I wouldn’t be who I am today.

I liberated myself soon after high school. I began to understand my feelings. First I battled with acceptance. I lived through the death of my mother. I slowly went from the town fag to my own person. No one in Ville Platte really knew me for who I was, because I hid behind my faggot persona. I had to release myself from the anger and betrayal. After my psychological cleanse, I was able to let myself become involved with a man. I’m still with this man today. It’s been a long relationship with its own ups and downs but I’m a better person now. I’m happier now more than ever. I woke up one day and decided that I’m not a fag instead I’m FAB.

Of course this is the blog shortened version of my story. There are a ton of gaps. I just didn’t want to bore anyone, so I’ll just post more later. Now that you know me will you follow my posts? Much love!