Category Archives: lgbt

SPIRIT DAY: Fifty Shades of Purple

Thursday, October 17, 2013 is “SPIRIT Day.”  The observance began in response to a rash of widely publicized bullying-related suicides of gay school students in 2010.

Since 2010, each year on “Spirit Day” people have been encouraged to wear the color purple, and post purple themed/bannered messages on Facebook, Twitter and other social media to show support for LGBTQ youth who are victims of bullying.

After posting photos/graphics from GLAAD and the Transgender Law Center on my Facebook page, I donned my three shades of purple outfit and headed to work.

I work with a diverse group of people. They are good people but we are different. They tend to be more conservative to my liberal. They are more Christian to my spiritual. They are more suburban to my urban. I know for a fact that I’m the only one with tattoos, piercings other than on the ears, sporting Afrocentric natural hair and openly gay. So I was not surprised that no one else wore purple or knew why I did today.

We live in different worlds, come from different backgrounds but every day I recognize I have an opportunity, a responsibility maybe not to change but to touch hearts and minds.

It’s all part of living an authentic life, of being out and finding those areas of intersectionality that help us move the boundaries of inclusion towards equality.

So I wore my three shades of purple ensemble, and when the opportunity arose I told them why I was wearing purple and talked about the damage bullying does to young lives, especially young LGBTQ lives.

We talked as women. We talked as mothers. We talked as concerned community members. And in the end, we discovered we aren’t so different after all.

There’s a classical Latin phrase carpe diem—usually translated as “seize the day” or “act now.” Occasions, like “SPIRIT Day,” gives each of us the opportunity to act, to touch hearts, minds and be the agents of the change we want to be.

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The 26th Project: Jason’s List

Jason’s  List

1. aristocrat                     
2. bulbous
3. cabaret
4. dandy
5. embelish
6. frivolous
7. gallant
8. highbrow
9. infatuate
10. jock
11. kaleidoscope
12. luscious
13. mannequin
14. notorious
15. outrageous
16. plush
17. quirk
18. random
19. seaman
20. tattoo
21. umbra
22. victorious
23. walnut
24. xenophobia
25. yearn
26. zydeco

The Story

The aristocrat, the jock and the seaman sat silently on the squad room bench waiting to give a statement on the untimely death of Luscious Divine.

Luscious, a favorite at the local cabaret was best known for her sultry Cajun love songs played on her bright red zydeco. She was also notorious for her outrageous philandering with a random assortment of gents each one’s name listed on the “Honor Roll of the Divine” tattoo that extended from the nape of her neck to the small of her back.

Rumors of how she had died were spreading like wildfire throughout the region. Some said she had been strangled. Others claimed she had been shot. Some said she had taken her own life. While others believed she had succumbed to some mysterious illness contracted from one of her many lovers.

The only thing they all agreed upon was that Luscious Divine was found dead in her bed the morning of the 14th by her close friend and confidant “Dandy” Joe lying in her grand canopy bed cold and lifeless like a beautiful sleeping mannequin.

The aristocrat with the bulbous nose and receding hairline inched as close as he could, without falling off, to the far end of the bench. He wanted to put as much space as possible between himself and the other two lest someone mistake them as acquaintances.

“Oh my precious Lucia,” he sighed. He had refused to call her Luscious although she was indeed that. “If only you had let me take you away from this carnival life to my world where you belonged – my world of gentility and plush surroundings – you would be with me still. Instead you chose to languish in this umbra of iniquity and are now lost to me forever” he thought. A tear rolled down his cheek. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, wiped his eyes then noisily blew his nose.

Tired of sitting on the hard bench, the jock got up, stretched, thrust his hands into his pockets and walked across the room. Leaning against the wall, he looked over at the other two men sitting at opposite ends of the bench.

“I can’t believe she could sleep with that fat, bald, fart after sharing the bed with me,” he thought watching the aristocrat dab at his eyes. “Soft” he thought with disgust. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the squad room’s window. He adjusted his stance, turning from side to side smiling at the reflection of the tanned, broad shouldered, muscular creature he saw. He was what Luscious needed, what every woman needed – a real man. Why couldn’t she just have been happy with him? Why was he not enough? “Oh Luscious,” he thought, “You with your crazy quirk for odd little men, now you’re gone leaving this real man alone.

The seaman looked around the room, snorted then stuck a fresh wad of chewing tobacco between his cheek and gum. “Why the hell am I here” he wondered. It wasn’t like they had something going on or did anything before or after each visit. She was just Luscious – the bawdy wench in every port a sailor has a yearn for after weeks at sea. There was no need to embellish what had gone on between them. It was what it was – a bottle of rum, a lusty woman and a soft bed to wake up in every now and again.

A sailor’s lot is a kaleidoscope of adventures, some good some bad. Luscious had been one of the bright spots along life’s voyage. He could still see those jet black eyes, feel her velvety soft skin and smell her perfume – jungle gardenia – sprayed liberally on her body and her cool satin sheets. “I’m gonna miss you Luscious baby,” he thought and smiled.

The detective opened the door and summoned the three into the interrogation room. “We’ve got a bit of a dilemma here boys,” he began. “I’ve got a dead body, one Miss Luscious Divine,” he took another look at the report. “Well I’ll be damned that’s her real name.

Body was discovered by a hysterical house boy “Dandy”Joe” wearing a kimono and ladies undies.” He looked at the report again. “I’ll just be damned,” he muttered, shaking his head.

He reached into the bowl on his desk, took out a walnut and cracked it noisily. Alrighty then! No time for xenophobia.

Let’s get back to the business at hand – the untimely demise of Miss Luscious Divine.”

The aristocrat cleared his voice and said “I believe, in this instance, I can speak for the three of us in asking just why we are here? Are we suspects?”

The detective resumed talking about the case ignoring the question.

“As I was saying, Miss Divine was discovered by one “Dandy” Joe the morning of the 14th laying in her rather ostentatious by most standards bedroom. Apparently she had been expecting a visitor as the table was set for two. The identity of this guest was unknown to the Dandy who apparently prepared the boudoir for visitors on a regular basis and was quite familiar with all the comings and goings not just of the gents on the list but others who wished to remain anonymous.”

He looked at the three and saw no sign of surprise. That there had been a steady stream of visitors to Miss Divine’s bed.

“So she liked her men. What of it?” the seaman asked. “Good lord man, she had a list of lovers tattooed on her back. You’d have to be deaf, dumb, blind and stupid not to know you weren’t the first and wouldn’t be the last.”

The detective continued “As I was saying Mr. Dandy Joe had set the table for two, laid out the lady’s unmentionables – which by the way matched the set he was found wearing to a tee – uncorked the bottle of wine then returned to the kitchen to finish the meal while Miss Luscious shall we say prepared the main course.” He laughed at this own joke alone but the three remained stoned faced.

Getting no response he continued with the narrative “I can see how a man could become infatuated with her. She was a beauty tattoos and all. And her closet of lingerie and sex toys would titillate the appetite of any normal man. But what real man could live with that revolving door to her bedroom?

Well back to the crime scene. The dandy returns to the scene of the crime all dolled up in his kimono and matching undies with the meal.

Miss Luscious is no where to be seen in the room. The curtains around the canopy bed are drawn tight and dandy’s thinking the party has already started.

One of the wine goblet’s is half- full and the other is laying on the floor by the bed. He sets the table then notices no noise is coming from the bed. Seems Miss Luscious was a screamer.

He tips to the bed peaks inside the curtain and finds her dead. Her body dressed in white negligee like a bride on her wedding night and her body posed like a sleeping angel. He tries to wake her to no avail and then the hysterics begin.”

The aristocrat asked again “so sir I ask once more why are we here?”

“Yeah” the jock joined in “tell us what you want or let us get the hell out of here.” The seaman nodded in agreement then spit the wad of tobacco on the floor.

“You are here gentleman because of the writing on the pillowcase” he said.The three grew quiet and inched towards the edge of their seats.

The detective smiled at last victorious he had them right where he wanted.  “What writing,” they said simultaneously.

“The writing on her pillowcase in her own blood gentlemen containing your three name and the words ‘No more. It all ends now’” he said.

“So now let me ask each of you gentlemen why are you here? Are you suspects or will you be next?’

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The 26th Project: The list that began it all

This is the initial list that Tony and I exchanged back in 2007 and the crazy short story that resulted.

  1. Amsterdam
  2. Blind
  3. Crazy
  4. Dawn
  5. Edify
  6. Fracture
  7. Giddy
  8. Homage
  9. Infantile
  10. Jaded
  11. Klondike
  12. Lesbian
  13. Marsupial
  14. Negro
  15. Operatic
  16. Palestine
  17. Queer
  18. Radical
  19. Scientology
  20. Truncate
  21. Utopia
  22. Vixen
  23. Whimsical
  24. Xenophobe
  25. Yearn
  26. Zygote

My arrival on earth had been delayed by an unexpected brush with a meteor storm soon after passing Venus.  My destination Alaska where I would meet up with other members of the Interspecies Liberation Movement to get the revolution started on another planet – Earth.

I was dressed for the frigid landscape of the land of the midnight sun in midnight blue leather, of course. A leather jumpsuit with matching parka trimmed in silver fox and my signature six inch stiletto boots. Ok, not your traditional Klondike attire but stylish, totally hot and totally me.

I was all ready to step from my glitter capsule into the crisp Alaskan air but when the hatch opened I found myself, instead, smack dab in the middle of Amsterdam’s red light district at dawn. As the sun rose in the sky its rays reflected off the garish windows of the brothels and sex shops. The glare left me blind.

This was crazy!! I was in Amsterdam. There was no radical queer community waiting to pay homage to an intergalactic vixen preaching interspecies rights. Instead of throngs of worshipers chanting my name in sweet operatic tones I was surrounded by dirty old men in trench coats and drunken tourists stumbling in and out of the shops and brothels – so inane, so infantile.

No revolution here. Just crazed Dutch boys that didn’t want to vibe on my message, they only yearned to cop a feel on my muscular, chocolate, 6 foot 8 inch frame.  I lifted the flap on my pouch and pulled out a pair of silver framed sunglasses.

“Look Hans” one of the Dutch boys shouted “I don’t think she’s just a Negro. I believe she’s one of those interspecies hybrids.” A crowd started to gather. All of them watching, pointing, and getting a little giddy.

I cleared my throat and spoke. “Listen up folks I am not a neee-gro. I am a Black Lesbian Marsupial with a message for you. It’s a message about Utopia. If you care to listen?”

They kept mumbling and staring. Finally a short red-haired stud stepped forward, grabbed me by the arm and said “I feel you sister but these are lost causes. Let’s get out of here.”

We slipped into the coffeehouse at the Van Gogh Museum. “What happened? I’m here in Amsterdam and nothing. Where’s the love?”

Maxie, the red-haired dyke, told me that every since Tom Cruise had moved to the Netherlands and started throwing around Scientology doctrine and more importantly money there was a fracture in the community.

“So that’s why they’re so jadedScientology. Well I’ll be damned” I said

We left the café and headed toward my glitter capsule. I pulled out my astral map to chart a course for the nearest commune.

A trench coated xenophobe whipped open his coat and flashed me. “Want to play girlie” he slurred and reached out to touch me.

Just then a location lit up on the astral map – Palestine. As I charted my course I felt the jerk’s hand on my shoulder. I spun around and kicked the little weirdo, knocking him flat on his ass. “My back! You broke my back! I’m paralyzed” he screamed.

I scanned his body with my x-ray/CAT scan watch. “Quit whining you zygote. It’s not even fractured.”

I started for the Glitter capsule again. Ï heard footsteps running behind me. It was a band of queers “Wait! Wait! We yearn for Utopia. Take us with you” they called.

I could have turned around and given them a lecture but I needed to get to Palestine. There was no time to edify the masses now so I did the next best thing.  I said, “Get on board. I’ll tell you on the way to Palestine.”  We all climbed into the capsule, battened down the hatches and took off for the Promised Land.

We landed in Palestine an hour later. I had changed in to a hot pink leather mini dress with matching stilettos. I fluffed up my afro and opened the hatch. My motley crew and I were welcomed by the sweet refrains of the liberation anthem. The weather was hot, crazy hot and the sun reflected of the desert sand was blinding.

A sister from my home planet stepped out of the crowd and gave me a big hug. She was dressed in an identical leather mini-dress and stilettos only in lime green. “What kept you sister Yar? The Klondike team froze their butts off waiting for you” she said.

“Well I could tell you the whole sordid story but our “peeps” are waiting. Do you mind if I truncate?” I asked.

Truncate! I like the sound of that. Truncate, my sister, truncate.” Xena said with a whimsical smile.

I gave her the reader’s digest version of my trip including the meteor storm and my stop in Amsterdam.  “Scientology! Wow!” she said at the end of my story. “I knew it was out there but it’s becoming a frigging cult.” “With Tom Cruise as its leader, the revolution can’t start soon enough” I said.

“Who are they,” she asked pointing to the wide-eyed, scraggly group standing close to the capsule. “They’re cool. Met them in Amsterdam and they came along for the ride,” I said. I let Maxie do the introductions.  Pretty soon everyone was talking and smiling.

I cleared my throat to get their attention. “That’s right, all eyes here,” I said. “Now that we all know one another let’s get this party started.”

“The sun’s pretty bright out there” Xena said as she put on her sunglasses with lime green frames completing her outfit. “I hope you brought some shades.”

“Am I not a Black, lesbian marsupial” I asked unsnapping the flap over my pouch and pulling out a pair of sunglasses to match my hot pink ensemble. We looked at each other, smiled then hopped towards the city to preach interspecies liberation to the believers waiting at the commune in Palestine.

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“The 26th Project”: Rebooting a Writing Project

In 2007, with my friend Antonio E. Johnson, I began a whimsical writing experiment we called “The 26th Project.”

We began by exchanging a list of 26 words beginning with a different letter of the alphabet (from A-Z) and, using these words, we each wrote a short story.

From this humble beginning I set a goal to collect lists of 26 words from 26 very diverse individuals from around the world – gay, straight, multicultural, multi-ethnic and from different socio-economic backgrounds – that would celebrate the diversity of imagination.

Like most projects, this one got off to a great start but got bogged down by LIFE. So I am rebooting this project and encourage you to send me your list of 26 words and let’s see what stories they tell.

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Road to Equality Still Runs Through the Ballot Box

VRA: When The Dancing Stops REALLY Protecting Our Equal Rights

On Wednesday June 26th, I was driving down “the Lodge” (M-10 to you non-Detroiters) listening to NPR, of course, specifically “The Diane Rhemes Show,” waiting to hear the Supreme Court’s decision on DOMA and Prop. 8.

Like most members of the LGBT community my stomach was in a knot, but my stomach was in more than just a knot it was in a double half-hitch with a twist knot as I was still reeling from the Supreme Court’s decision the day before gutting the Voting Rights Act.

If they would gut this Act that sought to ensure protections for voting rights at the polls for every American, I wondered if the same court could muster sufficient votes to stand for equal rights for LGBT families.

Then it came, the news we had all dreamed, dared hope for, decisions for marriage equality on both DOMA and Prop. 8.

I screamed, tooted my horn, then breaking my rule of not calling/texting while driving, called my good friends Donna Payne at the Human Rights Campaign who has been working for marriage equality nationally, and Susan Horowitz at Between The Lines who had spent many days and nights in the trenches with me on Prop 2 in Michigan.

These decisions weren’t everything – marriage for LGBT couples is not legal in most states – but the walls had definitely started tumbling down.

By the time I reached downtown Detroit, I had shared numerous celebratory horn-toots with cars sporting equality stickers. Sitting at an outdoor café, I watched with a grin as same-gendered couples walking, with eyes glued to their smart phones, let out a little whoop then reached out and walked the rest of the way hand-in-hand or arm-in-arm.

Every two seconds I received a text or tweet from friends and family. I even heard from people I barely knew but who had stood with us on the cold January day in Lansing when Michigan enshrined discrimination into the constitution believing as King said that “The Arc of the Moral Universe Is Long, but It Bends Toward Justice.” and today it had bent for equality. It was a good day to be gay in America.

And could the timing have been any more perfect, the ruling came in June as we celebrate pride in cities across the country.

It’s been great seeing jubilant couples in California again exchanging vows; seeing Edie Windsor jubilant in victory and leading the New York Pride parade with co-Grand Marshals Earl Fowlkes and civil rights icon Harry Belafonte; and  even though I don’t have a wedding (or a date for that matter) on the horizon I could not be prouder.

My country, the United States of America, had affirmed that major statement on human rights within the Declaration of Independence – that in marriage my LGBT community was also endowed with “certain inalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

Oh happy day – but maybe not because I wear this Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat woven with threads from the intersections of race, class, gender and sexual orientation.

The day before a very big thread in my dream coat had got snagged by the same Supreme Court with implications that could set back our march for equality and that snag was the gutting of the Voting Rights Act.

I am first and for most an African American woman. I didn’t have do anything other than come out the birth canal to be identified as such and subject to discrimination based on the very fact that I was born this way. I am also proud, out member of the LGBT community.

Even though the formula struck down by the Supreme Court in Section 4 of the Voting Rights Act had, as Chief Justice Roberts said in his bench statement, extended a 40-year-old coverage formula based on “obsolete statistics” it had protected voter’s most at risk for being disenfranchised or denied their right to vote.

I can’t help but wonder how many LGBTQ people of color who gained recognition with the DOMA repeal will now face discrimination in the voting booth? But it’s more than just a Black/White, Gay/Straight issue. How many women, including Lesbians, will be denied access to reproductive rights if voting rights can be skewered by partisan politics?

Want a glimpse of the future, just take a look at Texas where gerrymandering and challenges at the polls threaten to disenfranchise Latino, African-American, the poor and whatever other group is not in favor (like pro-choice/women) voters.

Want a closer glimpse; you need look no further than Saginaw County in Michigan where the Supreme Court decision cleared the way on to dissolving the Buena Vista school district.

The ultimate battle for equal rights will take place in communities, municipalities and states across the country at the ballot box. We must change hearts and minds one person, one vote at a time and not leave equality hanging in a SCOTUS balance.

It’s up to us. Time to Gladiator-up community! We will never have the full freedom to marry without the freedom to vote!  Congress can reverse the effects of the court’s decision on the Voting Rights Act.  Get involved by visiting freetovote.org, The NAACP, NOW, PFAW, HRC  or NBJC to name a few -BUT DO SOMETHING!!!

Today I’m doing my happy dance for marriage but I’m gearing up for the real fight.  Let’s protect every vote so when the dancing stops I won’t find my Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat unraveled and all of our rights flapping in the wind.

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