Back in New York

Sometimes when I touch down in a NYC airport songs float through my mind like I’m listening to a soundtrack.  Sometimes it’s The Beastie Boys, “No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn” sometimes it’s JayZ with “Empire State of Mind” and yesterday it was ole Blue Eyes himself with the best love song to the City that Never Sleeps, “New York, New York.”

Mirs came home with me and met my nephews, sister, and parents.  They even broke their “no sleeping in the same bed because you’re not married rule” on the second night.  It was purely circumstantial, my youngest nephew was allowed to sleep through his usual two-hour nap until around 11PM when he awoke wide-eyed, talkative with no hope of falling back to sleep.  I was grumpy with our early morning flight weighing on my mind and between my child-like pouting and whining and the little one’s energy my mother said, “Just sleep in the same room” so we did. Sleep.  No touching, I barely kissed her.  I mean, it should be a thrill doing it in your parents…I can’t even finish that statement, it sort of gave me the willies. 

There was nothing in my 31-year-old body that made me even remotely turned on about the prospect of doin’ the dirty in mom’s bed.  Because it’s now my mom’s bed, because they’ve probably done it on there, because their room was only a whisper away, because I felt really uncomfortable.  I dunno, maybe when I’m older it’ll be more of a thrill, or if I were older but at 31 the idea of getting down with my parents around wasn’t sexy, it was nerve-wracking so instead we snuggled a bit and fell asleep in the giant cloud that is my mattress that I spent big bucks on but wouldn’t fit in my car when I moved to NYC so now it’s my mom’s bed bed.

Guess Who’s Coming to Ohio?

My lady love and I are, that’s who!  One of my friends, Kylee, got hitched a while back and is having her reception in the good ole Toledo, Ohio.  It’s the first time I’ve been back home in a long while-since at least March and it is the first time I’m brining Mirs along with me.

We’ve been dating for 28 months and we’ve only met a few of each other’s family members.  Actually, now that I write this down it has occurred to me that she’s met more of my family than I’ve met of hers.  Still, meeting the parents is definitely a big one.  It means that we’re serious.  Things are serious.  Our relationship is serious.

When we first started dating her parents came into town and she casually asked if I wanted to meet them out.  We’d only been seeing each other for a few weeks, perhaps a month or so, and it seemed way too soon to meet her folks.  I politely declined the invitation and waited impatiently for the long weekend to be over so that I could come to her house or invite her over for that really hot first-few-months-of-a-relationship-crazy-sex phase.  Since neither of our parents have come to NYC the chance to meet again hasn’t come up.  When the invitation for Kylee’s reception came in the mail I asked Mirs if she wanted to come up and the way her face lit up is still imprinted on my mind.  She was genuinely excited about the prospect of coming home.

Now, with only a few days to go, the nerves are kicking in a bit.  After eating an amazing dinner of veggie enchiladas that she prepared and a bottle of wine we started to unwind in bed.  She asked me what she needed to know about my mother, my father, what to expect.  I answered her questions willingly but was sort of puzzled at her sudden concern.  I told her that there were thing she could expect from both of them, but mainly that they were warm and welcoming people.  We talked about what we’d bring them, taking them to dinner and sleeping arrangements (my parents are painfully old fashioned.  No bunking unless you’re married).  When we snuggled under the blankets and started to watch ProRun it dawned on me that this was a big deal for her.  I’m going home and bringing her along but she’s getting a crash course into our family with all of its ups and downs.  Completely out of her comfort zone, she will be the lone white girl in a black household and she’s nervous, rightfully so. 

Her mother extended an invitation to come home for Christmas which I politely declined.  I’m not sure how I’m going to tell my own parents I won’t be home for Christmas and it will have nothing to do with my Judaism.  There’s no way they’d hear of my flying down south to spend an important holiday like Christmas with another family instead.  But when my time comes to visit her home I’m sure I will be an even larger bundle of nerves.  She’s a southerner coming to Yankee land but it’s no comparison for this Black girl going below the Mason Dixon into a white Republican household.  Thank G-d I’ve got the Jew card in my pocket to play.

S.O.S

I don’t actually know what S.O.S stands for but I know that it’s a distress call (or is it?)  I’m not in distress, I’m just stressed.  If you read my other blog, which you should.  In fact, take a moment and go read it now I’ll wait here.

http://blackgayandjewish.wordpress.com

Back?  Great.  So you’ve read that I’m giving a talk in front of a handful of Jews of Color about being a Black, Gay Jew-to-be.  I need some help from other Queers of Color, Jews who are Queer, Jews who are not Queer, and Jews of Color.  It’s a simple questionnaire I would e-mail to you for you to fill out and return.  If you want to help out, or know anyone who might want to, please send them my way.

blackgayandjewish@gmail.com

Amazing Videos on YouTube Post

I’m sick…since my birthday with a killer sinus infection-type head cold.  Plus, sneezing, coughing, and sore throat.  Yay.  Enjoy

If you haven’t seen this one, get some kleenex

Lots of F-Bombs here, you’ve been warned

National Coming Out Day

If you’re a closeted LGBTQ person and you’re ready to come out to the world, today is your day!  If you’re not ready, it’s okay, don’t worry when you’re ready we’ll be here waiting for you.  Unless your Queen Latifah, in which case, give it up already and join the fold publicly.

10.08.10, My 31st Birthday and my first Flash Mob

A little after 6PM at New York’s Grand Central Terminal a whistle sounded three times.  After the third cry dozens of bodies slowly collapsed to the ground.

6PM on a Friday night in Grand Central Terminal is sort of a mash up of many things.  It’s a tourist stop and Friday is the day they all come to NYC.  It’s right after the work day when the trains to Westchester County and Fairfield County stop running express and drag on forever on the local schedule.  It’s where business men and women stop for drinks before heading home, it’s where brides and grooms take pictures after their NYC weddings.  On October 8, 2010, it let those busy, bustling people see the effects of homophobia.

property of Erika K. Davis

The fact is that Homophobia Kills.  It kills in a very real sense, the names of people we’ve lost due to homophobia were said aloud for all of those present could hear their names.  Homophobia also kills the soul.  When a gay youth is told that they are worthless, they are sinners, they are ugly, they are inhuman and they have no outlet or resource to give comfort their soul dies.  Just as a child should never be told they are stupid, no gay person should ever discount their worth. 

Property of Erika K. Davis

When people turn a blind eye to hateful words and ugly deeds, Homophobia Kills.  It was to be expected that hurried New Yorkers would walk over the bodies.  We were occupying one of the busiest spaces on the entire island, but the not seeing of the New Yorkers trying to make their trains, the lack of compassion to even stop and ask, the desire to not see the death around them was eye-opening and it’s more than just a metaphor it is reality.  People hear and see acts of violence done to LGBTQ people and instead of lending a hand, they walk away.

Tikkun Olam is Hebrew for repairing the world.  It is our duty, as Jews, to participate in the repair of the world on every level.  We grow up in a Christian society that spouts sayings like, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” but its loaded and rattled with inequalities.  Our society as always put some one, some class, some minority aside or down to lift another up.  We cannot sit idly by and watch this continue to happen.  I urge you, no I implore you to do what you can to repair the world. 

I often wonder what happened to the Civil Rights activists of the 60s and 70s, did they not teach their children to act up?  Why aren’t some of us, folks in our late 20s and 30s, children of these activists more active?  When they saw the world around them filled with injustice and inequality they marched, we hop online.  Personally, I always say but rarely do. 

Yesterday was my birthday and I felt alive watching the dead bodies lie in Grand Central Terminal.  I felt moved in a way I haven’t felt in a long time.  I was inspired and I was angry but the thing that I realized is that I should only be angry with myself for not moving, talking, acting sooner and found inspiration in those who gave their lives, unwillingly, to the cause.

It’s my Birthday!!

There is a “die-in” at Grand Central Station today to shed light onto the issue of homophobia the way that it’s killing LGBTQ youth.  It’s at 6PM.  Be there or be (draws cartoon square a la Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction and Kill Bill)

Come out, Come out Where ever You are?

I used to feel this way and in some instances I think that it stands.  Celebrities, for example, should always come out with their homo flags flying.  It’s important that media figures, artists, actors, actresses, musicians, and political figures come out with their gay guns blazing.  It’s important that they show the world that they’re comfortable in their homo skin and it shows America and the world that gay comes in many different forms.  When celebrities come out it allows small town girl in Michigan that there are people out there who are like her, who are different, who are gay.

I feel the same way about showing positive images of women, people of color, and other minorities on television.  It doesn’t help society when all blacks are portrayed as absent minded, drug addict gang bangers.  Showing Asians as smart, good-doer prudes and Latinos as knife swinging, tequilla drinking thugs.  Just as gay men prancing around in glitter and tights don’t do gays any good.  Fact of the matter is that there are limp wristed gay boys, black men and women in gangs, Mexicans swigging tequilla, and an Asian girl getting into Princeton with her perfect SAT scores and GPA.  The vast majority of minorities fall in the middle, though.  Don’t we?

When you have positive images in the media of minority people it allows you to see a projection of yourself or a projection of who you aspire to be.  It is for this reason that I get angry when the media keeps shoveling the same bullshit down our throats.  It’s also why I stood on the side of come out ,be proud.  Until those teenagers took their lives for being who they are.  My tune has shifted a bit because it’s not always safe to come out and be who you are.  I applaud those young boys in glee club who wave their homosexual flag for the world to see.  I love the teen who refused to attend prom if not on the arm of her girlfriend.  On the other hand, there are so many different places and spaces where being gay, or perceived to be gay is like standing in front of a firing squad.

Growing up, I knew that I was gay.  I can remember my first realization when I had my first job at 15 at a local hotdog chain.  My boss and I were closing and she leaned over.  I could see down her shirt and she wasn’t wearing a bra.  Her breasts were small and perfect and the moment my eyes caught sight of her perfectly perky pink nipples there was an immediate warmth and aching in my shorts I never felt when I was in the back seat of a car making out with the pimply faced boyfriend I had.  I knew I was gay and waited 13 years to come out later.  It’s not that Toledo, Ohio was an anti-gay place, I just wasn’t ready to admit who I was. 

After the alarming number of recent suicides I’m feeling a little different.  I love Dan Savage’s It Gets Better Project but on the other hand, I think that keeping kids safe is more important.  Schools need to have better laws, restrictions, and groups that support LGBTQ and questioning students.  Gay and Straight alliances aren’t an option in this day in age, they are required just as the Math Club or Student Council are mainstays of high school life.  There needs to be more safe spaces for LGBTQ youth to go to when they feel like there is no place to turn and parents need to come to the reality that their children may be gay.  Education on so many levels is severely lacking in our country and gay issues is one of the areas.  In the public school system, tolerance doesn’t need to be taught, acceptance needs to be the norm.   Lastly, so many of us, me included, need to do something to make it better for kids instead of waiting for someone to pick up the slack for us.

You are Worthy-My contribution to the It Gets Better Project

High School is tough.  Unfortunately people are still stupid, even out of high school.  I wanted to share my store for the It Gets Better Project.  Thank you, Dan Savage, for uniting so many people via YouTube

It Gets Better Campaign-My Friend’s Video

NoH8.

It’s still happening.  Day after Day children are being harassed, assaulted, bullied and driven to the edge.  Too many children and young adults have ended their lives because they can’t take it any more.

My buddy Quinn made a video for the It Gets Better Project.