It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way – Dickens.
Such is the nature of life, such is the nature of Spain. Perhaps the brightness of our summer sun makes it so. Chiaroscuros aren’t relegated to museums, they’re present everywhere we look. We live in a country where churches and cathedrals adorn our main squares but the roads leading into our towns are decorated with neon signs announcing the existence of puticlubs (brothels). Toledo where Mrs. Hormigos lives is no exception. In fact, a quick google search will lead to a list of brothels in the area. Brothels likely frequented by the friends, neighbours and family members of the jeering mob (if not members of the mob itself) that gathered to insult Mrs. Hormigos.
I’ve heard much commentary on the issue. The best and most beautifully written was by Lorenzo Silva in El Mundo. His article is titled The Stone Throwers.
“In order for a stoning to begin it’s only necessary that someone throw the first stone. The stone-throwers are always around, lurking, waiting for someone to provide them with a target that ‘legitimately’ merits a blow to the head. By nature, they are not inclined to solitary action: they need the conformity of the gregarious spirit that is at the root- of the human-ness and monstrosity of any lynching.” -But I digress… I actually wanted to talk about the brutality of this form of hypocrisy. The fake-morality. The pathological misogyny. I’d be curious to know which of those members of the jeering mob had never touched themselves. How many have watched an adult video? How many have even filmed themselves? Last I checked, Spain was still the country where we even had porn being broadcast on public television. Where teen boys wait anxiously for their parents to fall asleep so they can sneak back into the living room and get their first glimpses of sex. Where married men linger in their living rooms as their wives get ready for bed in the hope of a sexual aperitif coming from a muted television.
We’re the Catholic country where there are more people tuned into Knight Rider than listening to Pope Ratzinger’s Urbi et Orbi. We’re also the country where the sex program Todos AHHH 100 has three times the viewer-ship of Easter Mass- so I have to ask myself what the hell is going on? There is only one answer and that answer is opportunism. It’s the opportunism that keeps monarchies in place and dictatorships strong. It’s the fraud that women are inferior and malignant. It’s the reasoning that leads to women in the middle east having to live inside duvet covers with slits cut out for the eyes. Mrs. Hormigos’ video is a slap in the face to the people who have historically and traditionally fed from the trough of inequality. Her liberation menaces their power, and for that reason alone she can stand proud.
In the past few months you’ve probably heard of a group called One Million Moms. They were the group who tried to get Ellen DeGeneres fired from a JC Penny campaign. Having failed in spreading their anti-gay message the first time around, they’re giving it another go by calling for a JC Penny boycott once again. This time it’s over a catalogue picture that shows two women kissing.
Who are they?
Unlike their name implies, they are not a grass-roots organization formed by concerned parents. One Million Moms was created by an also inaptly named hate group: The American Family Association. You don’t know the AFA? Here’s what the Southern Poverty Law Center says about them:
American Family Association
Methodist minister Donald E. Wildmon formed the National Federation for Decency in 1977, changing its name to the American Family Association (AFA) in 1988. Today, the group, which was taken over by Tim Wildmon after his father’s 2010 retirement, claims a remarkable 2 million online supporters and 180,000 subscribers to its AFA Journal. It also broadcasts over nearly 200 radio stations.
The AFA seeks to support “traditional moral values,” but in recent years it has seemed to specialize in “combating the homosexual agenda.” In 2009, it hired Bryan Fischer, the former executive director of the Idaho Values Alliance, as its director of analysis for government and policy. Taking a page from the anti-gay fabulist Scott Lively (see Abiding Truth Ministries, above), Fischer claimed in a blog post last May 27 that “[h]omosexuality gave us Adolph Hitler, and homosexuals in the military gave us the Brown Shirts, the Nazi war machine and 6 million dead Jews.” (Ironically, the elder Wildmon was widely denounced as an anti-Semite after suggesting that Jews control the media, which the AFA says “shows a genuine hostility towards Christians.”) Fischer has described Hitler as “an active homosexual” who sought out gays “because he could not get straight soldiers to be savage and brutal and vicious enough.” He proposed criminalizing homosexual behavior in another 2010 blog post and has advocated forcing gays into “reparative” therapy. In a 2010 “action alert,” the AFA warned that if homosexuals are allowed to openly serve in the military, “your son or daughter may be forced to share military showers and barracks with active and open homosexuals.”
Gays aren’t the AFA’s only enemies. In late 2009, Fischer suggested that all Muslims should be banned from joining the U.S. military. “Islam is a totalitarian political ideology,” Fischer added in August 2010. “It is as racist as the KKK. … Allowing a mosque to be built in town is fundamentally no different that granting a building permit to a KKK cultural center built in honor of some King Kleagle.” A little later, according to the Huffington Post, Fischer said that whatever the government does to “to make it unthinkable for America’s youth to join a white supremacist group,” it should also do “to make it as unthinkable for a resident of America to embrace Islam.” Around the same time, the Huffington Post said, he blogged that Muslim values are “grossly incompatible with American values,” and therefore no place in America should allow a mosque to be built.
And then there are the promiscuous. On his May 26, 2010, radio show, Fischer recounted the biblical story of Phineas, who used a spear to kill a man and a woman who were having sex. Citing the nation’s “rampant sexual immorality,” Fischer said, “God is obviously looking for more Phineases in our day.”
The Fischer mentioned by the SPLC is the same Fischer you’ve been hearing about in the news recently:
He’s also the one who quoted Martin Luther King, Jr.’s iconic “I Have a Dream” speech to argue in favour of discrimination against the LGBTQ community.
Follow the money & the numbers:
The AFA as a whole claims to have 500,000 members. A far cry from what their One Million Moms and One Million Dads groups hope to imply with their names. 500,000 people is the population of Fresno, California. That means that California alone, with a gay population estimated (conservative estimate) at 1.5 million people, there’s a gay population that’s three times higher than the number of people the AFA has in the entire country. Their claim to represent the majority of Americans is a manipulative pipe-dream, it’s a con job.
So how do they keep this cash cow going? How do they get their members on radio shows and giving interviews on television programs? There’s only one answer: CONTROVERSY. This is an enormous organization that depends almost exclusively on the LGBTQ community. They depend on demonizing us to fund-raise, to exist, to keep themselves in the spotlight and fund cushy salaries.
These groups are not about ideology, they’re not about protecting children, they’re not about making people’s lives better. They’re about greedy, ignorant people. They’re about con-artists and fraudsters who use junk science and myths to line their pockets. All that money you see mentioned up there, it doesn’t go to help people losing their homes, it doesn’t go to helping feed the poor, it doesn’t go to help educate children. It doesn’t go to help struggling single mothers. It doesn’t help the homeless, it doesn’t fund medication for the sick. All that money goes on funding campaigns that are AGAINST one group or another and to keeping the directors of these groups in the spotlight so they can sell their books and peddle their snake oil.
Another shocking example of the need for advocates to step in, before situations escalate to this degree. The school’s suggestion to the students was that he “tone down his accessories”. One day between classes he was surrounded by six students threatening to beat him up. He took out a stun gun and demonstrated it. The bullies backed off. They reported him and he was cuffed by campus guards and is now facing expulsion.
What you see on the right is an internal memo from the Austin Independent School District to all of their principles concerning the Day of Silence. I found myself breathless yesterday as I read their instructions to staff. They begin by explaining that the Day of Silence is a day of protest against the bullying and harassment of LGBT students in schools. They go on to say: “Students may voluntarily engage in this activity as long as participation is not disruptive to instructional activities or in violation of the Student Code of Conduct. School staff should keep in mind that students are particularly vulnerable to peer pressure and should be sensitive to the possibility that a student may face ridicule or peer pressure by non-participation.”
Yes, you read that correctly. The Austin school board is concerned that people who do not oppose anti-lgbt bullying are going to be bullied!!! In response to The Day of Silence, they have not sent out a memo about the grim statistics related to anti-gay bullying, statistics that range from dangerously high suicide rates to the possibility of permanent psychological damage.
In case you haven’t been following us and don’t know the statistics I’m referring to, here’s a reminder:
Nearly 9 out of 10 LGBT youth (86.2%) report being verbally harassed at school.
More than 60 percent of LGBT students said they have felt unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation.
Nearly 45 percent of LGBT students report being physically harassed in school.
Nearly one-third of LGBT students nationwide have said they have missed a day of school in the past month because of feeling unsafe.
The Austin School District believes the appropriate response from their staff is NEUTRALITY.
The memo goes on to explain The Austin School District’s policy on neutrality:
“School personnel should neither encourage nor discourage a student’s participation. Because school personnel are generally quite influential in developing the thoughts of young children, it is important that school personnel avoid even the appearance of endorsing a particular position or belief on behalf of the school. Personnel should avoid publicizing their beliefs to students for this reason. If students inquire directly about a staff member’s beliefs, staff may answer the question simply and briefly but should avoid answering in a manner that could be construed as proselytizing. School personnel may participate provided they do so in their free time, outside the presence of students, and do not impose on non-participating employees.”
Since I first read this yesterday, I’ve been wondering if The Austin School District has a similar policy regarding other non-discrimination campaigns. Before Martin Luther King Day, do they send out neutrality instructions regarding anti-racist bullying? During Domestic Violence Awareness month, do they send out a circular telling staff that they must avoid answering questions in a manner that could be construed as proselytizing?
I have decided to send a letter to The Austin School District asking for clarifications, and if they do indeed insist their staff be neutral on the bullying of any other part of their student body, or if their neutrality is only reserved for anti-LGBTQ bullying.
I tend to find SuperGays annoying. They’re good looking, talented and in this guy’s case, also, “a 1st grade teacher, writer, artist & home cook”. To add insult to injury, you make an obscure Adonaïs reference and he knows what you’re talking about. All of that should really should get him blacklisted by me. Instead, since I was brutal yesterday, I’m being nice today; So here’s a link to his poem in Equal Magazine. It’s quite outstanding.
And prepare yourselves for tomorrow… I re-watched John Neumeier’s production of Dame aux Camelias a couple of days ago, and fully intend to bore the will to live out of all you with my long-winded commentary on it.
Disclaimer: I don’t always wear my glasses. The television is always on, but we’re not necessarily paying attention. The television in the bedroom isn’t a big screen. If you ask me a question, I’ll always give you an answer, even if I don’t know the answer. The answer will never be: “I don’t know”. Cross racial identification is notoriously unreliable.
The Scene: It’s midnight on Monday, I’ve run into the bedroom before Tara, our Irish Wolfhound, has a chance to jump on the bed. If she gets there first, she spreads out, hogging most of it, and leaving me on a ledge. If you’ve ever met an Irish Wolfhound, you know what I’m talking about… They’re HUGE, extremely friendly, but huge. It’s no use kicking her off the bed, she’ll wait until we fall asleep and then get on top of us, which is worse.
Mike comes out of the bathroom and lays down.
Mike: What are we watching?
Me: Piers Morgan, I’m waiting for Law & Order.
Mike: I hate Piers Morgan. Who’s he interviewing.
I squint. It’s a good looking, African American man, he’s doing Streetcar on Broadway. I know the names of attractive black actors, but Denzel Washington is the only one that comes to mind, so it must be Denzel.
Me: It’s Denzel Washington
Mike: No it’s not.
Me: Yes. It. Is.
Mike: Then why does the banner say Blair Underwood?
Me: The banner must be wrong. Blair Underwood is a girl.
Mike: I think it’s that guy that used to be on Grey’s Anatomy.
Me: No it isn’t. It’s Denzel Washington. Blair Underwood is probably coming up next.
Mike: I’m sure it’s not Denzel Washington. You’re terrible at stuff like this. You’re the only person in the world who confuses Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro.
Me: They look the same
Mike: They do not, look the same.
Me: Blair Underwood is a singer. She won American Idol or America’s Got Talent. Was it Al Pacino or Robert DeNiro who was in Angels in America?
Mike: Oh my god. You ask that same question four times a year. It was Pacino.
Me: They look exactly the same. Big nose, floppy black hair.
Mike: If you wore your glasses more often, you’d find they do not look the same.
Me: Yes they do, and there’s that other one that looks like them too.
Mike: Who?
Me: Dustin Hoffman
Mike laughs
Me: You’re an idiot.
Mike: Why would Denzel Washington be doing Broadway? He can’t need the money. Why would he put himself through that?
Me: How do you know he doesn’t need the money? Didn’t he have a big unpaid tax bill a while back. I think he was even going to go to prison.
Mike: That was Wesley Snipes.
Me: Who’s Wesley Snipes?
Mike: He was in that Wong Foo movie with Patrick Swayze.
Me: That was RuPaul.
Mike: RuPaul only appears in a cameo.
Me: Oh, I know. He’s that basketball player.
Mike: No, he’s an actor, not a basketball player
Me: Then he was a basketball player before he was an actor. He does all sorts of things. Remember, he wore a wedding dress once, he’s a cross dresser.
Mike: Dennis Rodman?
Me: What?
Mike: Dennis Rodman is the cross-dressing basketball player.
Me: Then who’s Wesley Snipes?
Mike: I’m going to read now.
Me: Just because you hate being wrong. Now we’ve missed the whole Denzel Washington interview.
Mike: When you get up tomorrow google it. If that’s Denzel Washington, I’ll walk the dogs for two weeks by myself.
Recently a fellow blogger called me brutal, he is absolutely right. My brutality is the result of impatience for stupidity. LGBT activist Melanie Nathan, wrote a response yesterday to Dustin Lance Black’s absurd (not to say imbecilic) threat to withdraw support from President Obama. Mr Black, in his Hollywood Reporter article, offers us a diatribe which includes:
“So until the president publicly puts his wheels down on the side of full equality, he must be passionately engaged, confronted and protested for maintaining his prejudiced, hurtful public position. If his evolution continues to fall short, then those interested in equality in this country must abandon their support. Hope should never become delayed disappointment.”
My brutal message to Mr. Black is quite simple: Gay Marriage is by no means the panacea of equality he and other gay activists would have us believe. In fact, the passing of marriage equality in countries like South Africa have in no way diminished homophobia or prevented the genuinely brutal practice which is corrective rape. True equality can only be achieved by education, by dispelling pernicious anti-gay myths and by fighting for respect rather than tolerance. By putting so much weight on gay-marriage, we are setting aside issues which are sometimes deadly. I’m sure Mr. Black might be overwhelmed by the idea that he can’t yet be married on the Malibu beach-front, surrounded by scores of his Oscar-party going friends -but- there are over two million LGBTQ youth who are homeless, at high risk of being exposed to AIDS, drug abuse and death. Anti-LGBTQ bullying is a pandemic in schools.
Nearly 9 out of 10 LGBT youth (86.2%) report being verbally harassed at school.
More than 60 percent of LGBT students said they have felt unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation.
Nearly 45 percent of LGBT students report being physically harassed in school.
Nearly one-third of LGBT students nationwide have said they have missed a day of school in the past month because of feeling unsafe.
The minorities in our minority, African-American & Hispanic gay men are at absurdly high risk of contracting AIDS and other std’s. So pardon me, Mr. Black, if I find your inability to get married in Malibu shouldn’t be our exclusive priority as activists or as a community. But, who knows, perhaps you’re right, abandoning support for the party that has consistently supported diversity might be the clever thing to do! While we’re at it, why don’t we all sign up for the military, buy guns, and join GOProud, that way we can join Republicans in promoting a message that excludes from society anyone and everyone who doesn’t conform to their 1950′s ideal of acceptable identity and family.
If you’re a gay person travelling through Spain there are few words you need to know. The first is: Ambiente. Literally translated to English that word means environment/atmosphere, but as gay slang, it means: A place with some gay atmosphere, girl! Well, it means anything gay, person, place or thing. If it’s from the environment, it’s gay.
Below is my place of atmosphere, it’s called Passion. The video has Rebeka Brown performing live (then, being interviewed at the end). It also has a guy I know embarrassing himself by giving a drunken interview at 1 minute 50 seconds into the video. I’m not judging, I’ve often embarrassed myself there, but no one seemed to mind because I looked like that. Oh, and watch out for the Go-Go boy wearing a mask on the vid!
Okay, I know that’s cheating, I shouldn’t just post pictures of myself where I look good. So here’s one where I’m actually at Passion. The eyes have been censored for reasons only known to other drug users. And before you ask I have no idea how that little person got into the picture. And I am too Latin, albeit a pale version!
So now you know to go searching for The Ambiente when you get to Spain, but what next? Well, the Ambiente is very friendly which generally means many heterosexuals walk amongst us; So the next word (or question) you need to know is: ¿Entiende? You may already know that that word means Understand, but in gay slang it simply means: Gay. If you understand, you’re gay!So now you’re understanding and in a place of atmosphere. What else do you need to know?
Buga/ doesn’t have a non-slang meaning / heterosexual
Chupachochos / chocho sucker / not to be confused with the Chupacabra, It means lesbian.
Clóset / closet / means someone is closeted. Use: Mira el clóset / one would think you’re telling someone to look at a closet, when in fact you’re telling them to look at the closet-case
Daddy / daddy / means sugar daddy
Elvis / Elvis? / means bi-sexual
Heteroflexible / means they’re straight, but if you get them drunk enough you have a chance
Inter / means they’ll do anything in bed
Jotera / hetero token woman who’s part of a lesbian group
Julio Iglesias / older lesbian trying to look young
Leñador / lumber-jack / lesbian
Marimacha / Mary-Macho / masculine lesbian
Muerdealmohadas / pillow biter / gay man who is only passive in bed
And finally be careful with your masculine’s and feminine’s. Pollo means chicken, Polla means something else…
A more complete list is being compiled and will be posted soon!
The USA seems to be the only country in the civilized world where the miscomprehension (Is that a word? It is now) of Freedom of Religion still exists. It still exists primordially because religious zealots have successfully mangled logic and reason beyond any possible recognition; But all is not lost. There’s a simple way to explain it to them using something that is almost universally sacred to most of us with European origins: Bacon. Yes, I just said bacon. I’ll even let you choose, you can refer to the British meaty kind, or my favourite which is the fatty Oscar Mayer kind.
Freedom of religion, like most freedoms afforded to citizens of the civilized western world, is an individual freedom. What does that mean? It’s actually very simple. An individual freedom is one I can apply to my own life, not one I can force other people to apply to their lives. If I did, I would be interfering with their right of freedom of religion! In regards to religion, it means each one of us can:
A) Choose a (any) religion freely
B) Choose how often (or not) we participate in religious rituals
C) Follow as many religious regulations (or not) as we choose
D) Change to another religion at any given moment
And here’s where the bacon comes into the story. Orthodox Jews and Muslims have something in common other than fighting over (bad) Middle-Eastern real-estate. Both groups forbid the consumption of bacon. In free countries both groups also have the right to follow their religions. Now, in my eyes, a life without bacon would be a life not worth living, but here’s the great thing, freedom of religion means I don’t have to follow their religion and end up on a ledge contemplating death. They can’t make me follow their religions. I can spend the rest of my life looking forward to bacon with eggs, on salad, in sandwiches- and that wonderful smell!
So here’s what freedom of religion is not:
A) It’s not the right to make other people live by the tenets of your religion
B) It’s not the right to force other people to obey the rules of your scriptures
In practical terms that means:
It’s not the right of Orthodox Jews & Muslims to forbid me from eating bacon
It’s not the right of the aforementioned religious groups to force women who are not members of those groups to cover their hair with scarves or wigs
It’s not the right of Christians to tell people when, how or with whom they should or shouldn’t use their genitalia
It’s not the right of Christians to tell their fellow citizens how they should or shouldn’t live their individual freedoms
So what’s this rant all about? It’s about freedom. You have the right to choose and follow your religion, and I equally have the right to be a Hitchensian/Dawkinsian Atheist. You have the right to spend your Sundays in church, and I have the right to spend my Saturday nights wearing an I Believe in Evolution t-shirt whilst dancing to I Will Survive in liberal San Francisco, surrounded by my fellow gays (if I so choose). Stop interfering with other people’s individual freedom of religion by trying to impose your beliefs on their lives!!!!
Bullying and shame “If you ever come home beaten-up, and the other boy didn’t get it worse than you, I’ll beat you up all over again”
No, my father didn’t actually hit me, ever, but he did say that. I was around nine years old and still remember it as if he had said it to me this morning. He also enrolled me in Jiu-Jitsu classes, somewhat against my will. I was by no means the macho-super-jock he had hoped for and his expectations in my pre-adolescence marked the death of our relationship. He was but a reflection of his culture. Men were supposed to be strong and tough. We’re supposed to chase girls. We’re supposed to take care of ourselves and fight our own battles. Yesterday, as I was detailing anti-gay bullying to a school principle in Florida, she asked me: Why didn’t he come to me sooner? Why did he let it go on for over a year? The answers were so obvious in my mind, I didn’t understand how they wouldn’t also be clear in the minds of others. In an effort to clarify the goals of Project ProteKT, I’m examining these issues in more detail and looking for a way to articulate them clearly. Bullying results in fear, shame, embarrassment and guilt which increase progressively whilst the bullying goes on. The victim isn’t just being confronted by the bully, he’s also confronted by the social expectation that he be a man, and the expectations he has of himself.
Catch 22: By asking for help the bullying victim feels he’s weak, he’s giving in, he feels the bullies must be right.
Shame is a powerful and painful emotion. So powerful it has been used by religious groups & sects to control their flocks for millenia. It’s caused primordially by a combination of a strong sense of guilt and embarrassment. It originates from the basic human sense of right and wrong. If you do something perceived as wrong, you feel guilty and ashamed and develop the belief that others will judge you for yourallegedtransgressions and finally that you merit punishment. This is a particularly dangerous aspect of anti-LGBTQ bullying because what’s perceived as wrong and meriting ridicule is an integral part of the individual’s identity. That means victims can begin to question the value of their own existence. The many recent LGBT suicides, from Kenneth Waishuhn to Eric James Borges to Tyler Clementi show us the devastating effects different forms of bullying can have on the youngsters in our community.
We are talking about a dangerous cycle where the shame imposed by bullies generates a secondary cycle of strong feelings based on a belief in having done wrong, whether or not that belief is correct. Compounding the situation even further is the sometimes permanent damage to the bullying victim’s psyche. In a recent conversation with my psychiatrist friend, Dr. Anita Harris, she explained that she has a patient that’s still dealing with the horrible reverberations of being relentlessly teased during his adolescence. What Anita describes is PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder), which is manifested by a sense of unworthiness, undeservingness and non-entitlement. Bullying destroys self-confidence and self-esteem. It is unfortunately all too common for anyone being bullied to feel undue amounts of shame. That is a pattern assisted by society’s tendency to blame victims. The bully, noticing he has found a vulnerable target, then heaps on the guilt, increasing the belief in their victim that they (the target of abuse) are deserving of all the bad things that are now happening to them. This is the cycle we must find a way to stop. The first step to any victim’s rights campaigns is to remove the shame that is caused by victimization. Any ideas on how that can be done?
So Mike said: si tu me dices ven, and I answered ven. Bliss did not ensue. We had no idea of the turbulence that was about to encounter. Our first and biggest problem was one of clashing personalities. He’d been living by himself for many years, most of his relationships had been brief (with two exceptions) and he was used to being in charge. Mike wasn’t just in charge of himself, when his father became ill, he moved to Spain to give his mother a hand. When his sister had financial issues, he stepped in to help. His brother and his young family spent their holidays at Mike’s place in the mountains, he was his own little sovereign nation. He was what Bush II would call: The Decider. The problem was, so was I. I’d gotten into a terrible habit of only pursuing relationships where I had some form of upper-hand. I can’t explain this without sounding like a total jerk, but in my defence, I only realized what I was doing with my 20/20 hindsight. My many successive relationships were exclusively with people who I believed I could control, whether it be because I had more money, I looked better, I was better connected or… whatever. I now understand it was a result of insecurity, a way of fooling myself into believing that if I had the control, it would ensure whomever I was with would never leave me. As there was an age gap between Mike and myself, I presumed young & pretty me would be the boss-man. T’was not so. We were gearing up for Villa l’Africaine’s very own Napoleonic wars. We fought from Monday to Friday. I blasted Thalia’s version of A quien le importa from one side of the house, and from the other side he blasted I am what I am (It was probably a Shirley Bassey version because he’s Welsh). Thursday nights we had a mediator, my late and great mother-in-law, one of the great allies I’ve had in life. Saturday was going out night and we kissed and made up, then I’d spend the evening flirting with everyone/anyone to annoy Mike and try to score points on our invisible score-card. Neither one of us admitted the power struggle was of an emotional nature, and that we were both deathly afraid of giving anyone our hearts to hold in their hands. We took childish to new heights and that’s when we began The Design Wars.
I wanted this
And he wanted this
So he bought these chairs behind my back
and I bought the Directoire secretaire in response
This went on and on and on. It went as far as one of us putting up a painting and the other taking it down, various times throughout the day. We were so involved in our fabricated war we hadn’t realized clouds had been gathering above us. We were in our own little world, dedicating all our time to arguing and the house. As our work load diminished we had time to rejoin the outside world and start getting to know the residents of our new community and get back in touch with the people who had been part of our previous non-coupled lives. This was when all hell broke loose.
Other People’s Mess
Some people have said that Villa l’Africaine looks like a fort because of the entrance tower. It’s 30 feet tall and has little windows which would be perfect for snipers. It was a comforting thought because we realized we were under attack. Both of us, up until that point, had been sought after guests. I was the life of the party, the snarky, risqué guest that no hostess could do without. The one that guarantees there’s no lull in the conversation at her table. Mike was the charming, former actor with the amazing voice and stories of his encounters with all sorts of interesting people. He worked with Ava Gardner three times, he knows Omar Sharif and acted opposite Maximilian Schell in Russia. He and Nureyev once rehearsed in adjoining spaces and Nureyev once goosed him as he was climbing up stairs. Then suddenly it hit us. Our first clue was from a Mrs. S. and came in form of an invitation that went something like this: When you two are on your own, that’s different, but together it’s kind of obvious you’re gay; But since it’s a garden party and there’ll be a lot of people, you’re welcomed to come. Or, why don’t you two alternate, each one of you comes to an alternate event on your own! What? Mike was in shock, he’d been part of the (progressive) arts world since his days doing drama at Oxford, which meant homophobia was practically alien to him. Principled man he is, he declined that and any other future invitations from Mrs. S.
But that was just the beginning, soon we realized it wasn’t just the more conservative sectors of polite society who thought we shouldn’t be together. Many of our friends agreed. But what happens when two obstinate guys are told by the world at large that their relationship can’t possibly work? They stop blasting Thalia’s version of A quien le importa and Shirley Bassey’s version of I am what I am from opposite sides of the house. They pull all the loudspeakers together (so the whole neighbourhood can hear them) and choose a new track. The new track is called Vámonos (Let’s Go)… because the two guys know that it doesn’t matter that one of them is a younger, spoilt, toff and a cad, and it also doesn’t matter that the other is an older, more conservative, homebody. What matters is they want to be together. But it wasn’t all bad, there people who stuck by us as well. The acting/artsy set: Sarah Porter, John McAndrew, Allan Corduner & Jane Bertish and a branch of the society set: Karin, Igel, Angelika & Andrea. Those were the main players who took up arms in our defence, and we’re very thankful for it!
I’ll only translate the important parts, because I’m lazy, scroll down to the second paragraph, but listen to the song to, just because the gently defiant tone is so wonderful.
ESTOY A PUNTO DE LLORAR,
DE TANTO RECORDAR, LAS HORAS QUE VIVIMOS..
ESTOY FORZANDO AL CORAZÓN,
QUE CUMPLA CON VALOR, LO QUE NOS PROMETIMOS.
A VECES, QUISIERA IRTE A BUSCAR,
A PUNTO DE LLORAR, NO SÉ CÓMO ME AGUANTO.
ES TAN DIFÍCIL DE OLVIDAR,
CUANDO HAY UN CORAZÓN,
QUE QUISO TANTO Y TANTO.
QUE NO SOMOS IGUALES DICE LA GENTE, They say we’re not the same
QUE TU VIDA Y MI VIDA SE VAN A PERDER, That our lives will be lost
QUE TÚ ERES UN CANALLA Y QUE YO SOY DECENTE, That you’re a cad and I’m decent
QUE DOS SERES DISTINTOS, NO SE PUEDEN QUERER.That such different people can’t love each other
PERO YO A TI TE QUISE Y NO TE OLVIDO,But I love you and never forget you
Y MORIR EN TUS BRAZOS ES MI ILUSIÓN, And to die in your arms is my wish
YO NO ENTIENDO ESAS COSAS I don’t understand these things
DE LAS CLASES SOCIALES,these social rules
YO SÓLO SÉ QUE ME QUIERES,all I know is you love me
COMO TE QUIERO YO.as much as I love you
VÁMONOS Let’s go
DÓNDE NADIE NOS JUZGUE,Where no one will judge us
DÓNDE NADIE NOS DIGA QUÉ HACEMOS MAL.Tell us what we do is wrong
VÁMONOS…..
ALEJADOS DEL MUNDO,
DÓNDE NO HAYA JUSTICIA, NI LEYES, NI NADA,
NÁ MÁS NUESTRO AMOR.
To be continued: Part III, how we lost the first battles but won the war!
We’re dealing with our first bullying complaint and I have been hugely and pleasantly surprised. I sent out a letter outlining the student’s concerns and received a response within the hour of a principal who has promised to do everything she can to help!!! I know it’s very early in the process, but it’s a heartening first experience, which hopefully means we can actually turn this into something that works.
I’ll be talking to Heather McCrae about teen suicide and bullying on her Monday night internet-radio show, here’s the link:
If flamenco music isn’t your thing, don’t watch the first video, but if it is, meet Falete. While Americans were debating whether Chaz Bono being on Dancing with the Stars was controversial, on the other side of the Atlantic, trans woman Falete was performing on national television and selling out concerts everywhere she went. A few years ago I was invited to an amazing party at Kim Soudavar’s house where we got to see Falete perform live to a small crowd here in Sotogrande, so I’ve been a fan for quite a while. I think she’s amazing because not only is she incredibly talented, but she challenges views of what a star is supposed to look like (are you listening Simon Cowell?). She also chooses to use a gender neutral name.
Most people would probably be surprised to know that Mike and I only got to know each other because he made one of the most cringe-worthy mistakes in all of human history.
Our lives didn’t intersect in Torremolinos which was my gay-world, instead we met in Marbella. It was a winter evening and as I did in those days, I was searching for flashing lights, in the hope of growing my collection of pictures of myself in magazines. I know, I had unusual hobbies. Mike approached me, we had a casual, pleasant conversation mainly about there not being many openly gay people around. We made loose plans of him maybe coming with me to Torremolinos (where he’d never been!) or maybe having lunch. We exchanged emails and phone numbers and I thought that was that, I thought no more of it as I went home. The next morning when I woke up, my cell phone was flashing, there were six nervous messages, all of which included different variations of the following phrases: I’m sorry; Please don’t open your email; Let me make it up to you; I didn’t mean it!
I couldn’t resist, of course, so I opened my laptop and there it was in my inbox, a message from Mike. I opened it, it wasn’t addressed to me, but simply to J. The letter described his meeting with a toff. If you’re American you may not have heard the term, but basically it’s British slang for a haughty, upper-class fool. You’re wondering who this fool was? It was moi. I know, I was as surprised as you!!! He went on to compare my suit to one that would have been worn by the son of a wealthy mafioso, and he was furious about my coat. Furious it had a black fox fur collar. Furious it was real fur, and even more furious that when he asked me about it I made jokes about him and his hippy/actor friends pelting me with tomatoes. He asked J: Who in the world would wear a coat with a fox collar in the south of Spain? The rest of the email criticized my choice of home, my choice of car and basically the offence that was my existence. I didn’t call him back or answer the email. I wanted to torture him a little. We’d barely met and yet he seemed mortified and desperate to apologize in the voice-mail messages. He thought I’d be angry, but in reality I found his message hilarious. I’d laughed all the way through it. Not nervous laughter, but real, from the gut laughter. It was the best and funniest description of me I’d ever read, albeit in a caricaturesque sort of way.
When I got home from lunch, he was waiting outside my building, and began an apologetic monologue of how he hadn’t meant anything he had said. He wanted to make it up to me, take me to lunch, invite me to spend the weekend at his place… please, please forgive me. I invited him in, explained everything was fine and he was perplexed, incredulous I could just brush the whole thing off. I accepted his dinner invitation, and suggested the restaurant where I ate most nights in those days, El Gusto. I caught him by surprise by waving away the bill when it came, I had a tab there. He insisted on paying, but I told him it wasn’t up for negotiation. We were fast friends. It turned out our wildly different surfaces were disguising our wildy similar minds.
He found my excursions into escorting fascinating and advised me against doing porn, as that would go on my permanent record. He told me about his life in acting, working at the RSC with Ian McKellen and Judi Dench. Becoming friends when he was a young man with Mia Farrow and being the godfather of two of her adopted children (see what I meant about his hippy actor friends pelting me with tomatoes)… and how he’d given up his career after spending a holiday at his parent’s house here in Spain. I told him about my childhood, my first disastrous relationships, my move to Spain. We started emailing regularly, as friends. I visited one weekend taking with me folders of cd’s and he burnt copies of my Maria Dolores Pradera, Los Panchos and Frank Sinatra (and burnt copies for me of his Maria Dolores Pradera, Los Panchos and Frank Sinatra). BTW, If you like sentimental Spanish music, Pradera is queen. For a good long while he was watching out for me as I roller-coasted dangerously through life. At the lowest point, just as I was de-railing, ready to give up- he sent me an email with five words: Si tu me dices ven
Boy, did I cry. I mean, except for the Duchess of Windsor and myself, I don’t know anyone who was able to extract that sort of emotion from one of her Majesty’s subjects!
If you’re not an aficionado of this sort of music you probably don’t know the song. So here it is, this is a bad and loose translation, but you get the picture. If you listen to it in the video, you can perhaps capture its intensity.
If you tell me, come, I’ll leave (drop) everything.
If you tell me, come, everything will be for you;
My darkest moments
I’ll also give to you
My secrets which are few
will be yours too
If you tell me, come, everything will change
If you tell me, come, there will be happiness
If you tell me come , if you tell me come…
Don’t stop the moment…
To unite soul with soul, heart with heart
To laugh with you during times of pain (lit. before any pain)
To cry with you, to cry with you
it will be my salvation
But if you tell me, come, I’ll leave everything
Don’t let it become too late..
and find yourself (wandering) on the street
lost, without anywhere to go…
If you tell me come, I’ll leave everything…
To be continued… with the story of how our first year together was absolute HELL!
And just because this is one of the greatest lyrics ever, here’s Maria Dolores Pradera singing
We’re in the process of closing a big (to us) deal, which means I have some free time lately… That’s why I started this blog just over three weeks ago. There was no concrete intent. My time was normally spent scouring auction catalogues from the time I woke up to the time I went to bed looking for sleepers. You probably don’t know or care what a sleeper is, but let me explain anyway, because this is my blog and I can be as boring as I like. Auction houses have general experts and work with a massive amount of items, which means it’s impossible for them to be right all of the time. I look for their mistakes. For example, they may catalogue a painting as an 18th century Flemish derivative work (loose copy), but a little bell rings in my head that says certain characteristics of the painting in question may be similar to an important work, but other details lead me to believe it is not a copy of the important work that’s being referenced. I research and if I feel I’m correct I purchase the item, authenticate it and put it back on the market. Interesting finds in the past year have included a portrait of Charles II, the last Hapsburg King of Spain which I got from a Dutch auction house and an 18th century Aubusson Cheval Fondu tapestry which had gone to auction with no identification whatsoever (other than antique tapestry). Anyway I digress…
I’ve discovered a few things in these few blogging weeks. The first being that there are incredibly funny, interesting, fascinating people out there. There’s Comedian Becky Donohue of SweetMotherLover and Tony Cavanagh, a gay acrobat who found his other half (who also happens to be a gay acrobat!). There’s Angry Ricky, who I quite adore reading, because he’s thoroughly cultured, writes beautifully and I get to see the world through the eyes of someone who was a married, conservative Mormon and who’s come to terms with being gay. Finally, I’m coming to my point, thank you for your patience. I had no idea thousands and thousands of people (a grand total of nearly 10 thousand as of today) would be interested in what I had to say in the past three weeks. I won’t lie and say I feel humbled, no one who knows me would believe it anyway. Rather, I feel puissant (yes, that is a word in English too, not just French). I think if like minded people get together, we can effect change, real change.
In her words: “Just a Bit Radical is a magazine with a simple mission: to provide lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, and asexual (LGBTQQIA) youth and their allies ages 13 to 30 with a publication that discusses ideas and issues that are important to them. We look to increase positive LGBTQQIA awareness in media and in print, and portray a positive and honest view of LGBTQQIA individuals. We look to foster hope in today’s youth, to show them that they can make a difference and that things will improve. Just a Bit Radical is a place just as its name states, a little radical — forward-thinking, bold, and edgy.
I know what you’re thinking: WHAT? 13 to 30? Is she calling me old? Don’t worry, I’m sure you have an online dating profile where you’re between 13 and thirty!!! She promises not to discriminate. But anyway, for this to happen, money is necessary, and as she told me, if 450 people donate 10 dollars, we’re there. Donations can be made on Kickstarter and all you need is an Amazon.com account, which I presume most people already have. I have put my money where my mouth is and donated $150, but if all you have to spare is $5, it’ll make a difference! I’d love to find out that this blogging thing can actually translate into something that’s not only positive for society, but also for our LGBT community. There are 15 days left for the project to be funded, let’s do it! Re-blog, tweet, facebook or do what I plan to do which is invite your friends to dinner and don’t let them leave without making a donation! The minimum donation is $2, so there’s really no excuse for anyone not to participate!!!
The house where Carrie Bradshaw lived, supposedly on the Upper East Side but actually at 66 Perry Street in the West Village, still draws a steady stream of “Sex and the City” fans. They snap photos of the row house, which was built in 1866, as if to partake in the fictional life of a New York writer and the foibles of her quest for lasting romance.
But a real New York romance played out at the house next door, No. 64, whose plainer facade served as Carrie’s building for the first three seasons of the show, said Tim Gunn, the fashion executive who lived in an apartment there for 16 years. It lasted almost six decades, linking two men from their first meeting at the Rockefeller Center skating rink during World War II until one of them, Harold Eliot Leeds, an architect and professor of interior design at Pratt, died in 2002.
Just found this appalling story in the news where Mr. Chaifetz details the abuse (recorded) suffered by his autistic son.
“My name is Stuart Chaifetz, and my son, Akian, is a ten-year old boy who has Autism. Akian has always been a sweet and non-violent child, and that is why it was so distressing when notes started coming home from his school, Horace Mann Elementary in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, saying that he was having violent outbursts, including him hitting his teacher and aide.
I could not understand why this was happening. I had never witnessed Akian hit anyone, nor could I dream of him lashing out as had been described to me. In October, I had a meeting with the IEP team (the teacher, school social worker, occupational therapist and speech teacher) to try to figure out what was going on. From that meeting, a behaviorist was called in who wrote a report. I sat down with the behaviorist on February 8, 2012 to review the findings.
It was pointless; even though the behaviorist was in the classroom a number of times, not only had he never witnessed any violent event, but when he tried to create a scenario that would cause one to happen, he failed.
Something was terribly wrong. I felt I was beginning to lose my son — that these outbursts were changing his very nature. The teacher and school social worker tried to downplay it, to the point of almost mocking me for my concern. But I knew my son. I knew this wasn’t him. And I knew I had to find out what was happening in his class that was having such a dramatic impact on him.
On the morning of Friday, February 17, 2012, I wired my son and sent him to school. That night, when I listened to the audio my life forever changed, for I heard my son being bullied by his teacher and aide.”
It’s one of those days again, my head is pounding and I’ve already taken 2 grams of paracetamol. I’ve screamed at two different people on the phone and the noise made by our Dyson Animal vacuum cleaner is torturing me as I type. As some of you may or may not know, Mike and I are accidental property developers. Accidental because we really didn’t plan it. When we met, Mike was selling a gorgeous place he’d built (no, not physically!) way up in the hills of Casares. He’d been on his own for a long time and he needed a change. Living on an isolated property at the top of a mountain meant driving down dirt roads for 45 minutes before beginning a trip anywhere, including the supermarket. It wasn’t conducive to meeting people or having a relationship, which is what he finally realized he wanted. He got an excellent price for the place, and he deserved it, the views were amazing and the house itself was very charming. After years of mountain life he wanted a whole different sort of set-up. Not a septic tank and a post office box he had to visit weekly, but mains-water and an address fed ex would deliver to. Sotogrande, where we now live, was quite popular. There were interesting people, new polo fields, a few hundred houses (low hundreds), and eight restaurants. The downside was that there was only a single tiny supermarket in the marina, almost no other services except for a few luxury boutiques and the nearest real civilization was almost an hour away. Land was so cheap, Mike decided to buy a lot of it. I’ll condense the middle part of the story because it’s not really relevant, but I was having my wild period, then had a boyfriend from Granada who my friends, spurred on by Mike, called Al Andalus. After the very messy break-up, I have only referred to him as The Boy. He left me for someone else, after spending a whole bunch of my money and having convinced me to move to a different city, rent an apartment (in his name), furnish it etc. I was crushed, beyond crushed. I wanted to die. Mike thought the Sotogrande air would do me well, and we’ve been together ever since. Mike had built the little Moroccan guest pavilion at the bottom of the garden while he decided what the big house would be like. Together we created Villa l’Africaine, which it turns out lots of people think is great. Not long after we were done, Casa & Campo, the Spanish version of Better Homes & Gardens asked to feature us in their special 100th edition and we agreed. At the same time, the new toll road was built, which meant easy access anywhere. Then two huge supermarkets and a whole lot of new homes. Prices sky-rocketed. Plots that once cost 30.000 euros suddenly cost 300.000. Sotogrande was now a big deal and we had a lot of land in one of the best zones, bordering protected forest land. We decided to cash-in, retain 2,400m2 (about 26,000 sq. feet) for our own garden and transform the rest into other homes. Prices were (and still are) so high that we only needed a mortgage of 15% of the value of Villa l’Africaine to go forward with our project. 10 years later and we’re nearly done, we have a client for our last bit of land, we transformed the guest cottage into a villa, well, almost a villa, it’s still under construction but the buyers have already paid a 10% deposit. We need to change the deeds to reflect a new line that separates our garden from the guest house because we want all the mature trees to remain on our land. Enter annoying banker from mortgage company, who has put every possible difficulty in the process, we’ve been at this since June of last year and today he’s sent us yet more documents to be signed and informed us the house needs to be re-valued. Re-valued?!? Our mortgage is 15% of the house’s value. We’ve never been a day late in making any of the payments. The sale of the new project will guarantee the re-payment of the mortgage all together, and this imbecile wants to find more ways to waste our money. We’ve already got the licence from city hall (800 euros), the lawyers already drew up the papers (god knows how much that will cost), the clients have their lives on hold waiting to complete the transaction- and Mr. Idiot in Madrid, doesn’t give a damn about anything or anyone except making the process as unpleasant and tedious as he can while finding ways and more ways to charge us for things that weren’t necessary in the first place. I used to love living in Spain, but to be honest, I hate this new post-euro Spain. Instead of adopting the best of Europe and retaining the easy-going ways of Mediterranean life, we have the worse of EU bureaucracy and no common sense whatsoever. I can’t wait to sell the house I love, in a place I once loved and just get out of here.
I’ve started https://projectprotekt.wordpress.com as a means to organize the project in a practical terms.
Here’s what I would like to know:
1. I can add people to the blog as editor, author or contributor so people other than myself can have a direct role in putting this project together. I know some people have offered help, but sometimes we drink too much and get excited (like that time you invited those people you’d just met to spend a weekend at your beach-house and they accepted!)- So who’s willing to do what and would you be willing to take on an official role?
2. Formatting suggestions. How should the website be organized? What’s on the front page? How many pages are there? What do they contain. I found an interesting legal resource we can link to: http://www.stopbullying.gov/laws/index.html
3. I’ve looked into starting an official US non-profit as the US is where the problem seems to be the most severe. Being in Spain doesn’t make the process particularly easy, but I have found a legal office that will do it for around $500. Is it necessary, or can we be credible without that?
4. What’s the best theme for the Project ProteKT blog, which we’ll use until the website is up and running?
Suggestions for Background and Mission Statement?
Project ProteKT
Background: The Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network reports that:
Nearly 9 out of 10 LGBT youth (86.2%) report being verbally harassed at school.
More than 60 percent of LGBT students said they have felt unsafe at school because of their sexual orientation.
Nearly 45 percent of LGBT students report being physically harassed in school.
Nearly one-third of LGBT students nationwide have said they have missed a day of school in the past month because of feeling unsafe.
These numbers make it clear that anti-LGBT bullying is a pandemic within American schools.
Mission:
Project ProteKT is a collaborative, volunteer effort, aimed at assisting LGBTQ youth in the prevention and combat of bullying. We hope to guide you through the processes of lodging complaints and ensuring your rights are respected.
We’re the Catholic country where there are more people tuned into Knight Rider than listening to Pope Ratzinger’s Urbi et Orbi. We’re also the country where the sex program Todos AHHH 100 has three times the viewer-ship of Easter Mass- so I have to ask myself what the hell is going on? There is only one answer and that answer is opportunism. It’s the opportunism that keeps monarchies in place and dictatorships strong. It’s the fraud that women are inferior and malignant. It’s the reasoning that leads to women in the middle east having to live inside duvet covers with slits cut out for the eyes. Mrs. Hormigos’ video is a slap in the face to the people who have historically and traditionally fed from the trough of inequality. Her liberation menaces their power, and for that reason alone she can stand proud.
but I’ve destroyed all the evidence.
