Homecoming Queen

George Mason University has a homecoming queen. Who happens to be male. I think that this is absolutely fabulous.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/02/19/AR2009021901780.html?hpid=artslot

It reminded me of a few other articles I'd seen in past years, about gay or transgendered prom kings and queens.

In 2007:
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/222121/not_your_normal_prom_king_transgender.html?cat=62

In 2001: http://www.komonews.com/news/archive/4004466.html

At my high school, something like this would not have happened. At my high school, when I went there, two people of the same sex couldn't even buy homecoming tickets together, let alone be obviously on a date. And while I wasn't aware of my orientation in high school, I did think it unfair that my large group of dateless friends couldn't all get together and buy double tickets. It had nothing to do with gender, back then, and everything to do with economics. Double tickets were cheaper by about ten bucks. But we all bought individual tickets and went as a group and had a fabulous, dateless time.

Things may have changed at my school by now. I don't really know, and I don't particularly care, since I'm no longer there to deal with it. My senior year, someone started a Gay-Straight Alliance. I was already overinvolved and so never went to a meeting, but I was glad that it was there. It might still be there, or it might not. It's someone else's battle to fight, in any case. But it makes me glad to know that somewhere out there, gay teens are visible and making their voices heard.

Food is Out to Get Me

There's the bizarre intolerance of meat-related protein. The periodic random bouts of my-digestive-tract-hates-me that I can no longer attribute to living in Africa. And then I find that some of my favorite sea kittens (ahem, fish) may in fact be trying to poison me in my sleep.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/29392319/

Apparently, dangerous microscopic algae in tropical waters get eaten by little fish, which get eaten by bigger fish, which get eaten by bigger fish, which get eaten by us. And since these little microorganisms contain neurotoxins, they basically result in food poisoning gone horribly awry. I'm envisioning PETA launching a "Revenge of the Sea Kittens" campaign as soon as they get wind of this.

I doubt I'll stop eating sea kittens, because dammit grouper is tasty. But I find it scary that slowly but surely the list of things I'm confident that I can safely eat is becoming narrower. Someday soon I might be reduced to nothing but rice noodles and miso. And on that note...I think it's time for lunch.

Torture leads to terrorism? Who knew?

The Washington Post today ran an article about Abdallah al-Ajmi, a Kuwaiti man who spent four years in Guantanamo prison on unconfirmed terrorism charges and became a suicide bomber shortly after his release. Some may take his post-release actions as confirmation that he was held with good reason and that the initial terrorism charges were correct. But the Washington Post asks in its headline, with good reason, Did Guantanamo Turn an Accused Low-Level Taliban Fighter Into a Suicide Bomber?

I think it did.

Al-Ajmi was 23 when he was first interned. Twenty-three. The age of can’t-quite-graduate college fratboys and just-graduated-and-can’t-find-a-job interns. He was arrested in Pakistan on unconfirmed charges that he fought for the Taliban. Even Gitmo officials say that he probably had no connections whatsoever with Al-Quaeda. He was basically a young adult with an eighth grade education who couldn’t get any work outside the military. So he joined. No one knows exactly why he went to Pakistan, or why exactly he was arrested. But even if he did fight for the Taliban as a footsoldier, he was far from a criminal mastermind, and his lawyer described him as “one of the least dangerous people I’d seen at Gitmo.”

So how, once he was released, did he turn suicide bomber so quickly? Well, let’s be logical here. He was held without knowing his charges for an indefinite length of time at one of the most notorious US military prisons in the world. He had no contact with friends or family, no possessions other than a Koran and a blanket which were often confiscated for minor behavioral infringements, and he was often mistreated by the guards. If you were suddenly arrested, stripped of all your rights and possessions, and kept in a concrete cell for four years, wouldn’t you be angry? If you knew that the people who were keeping you prisoner could do anything they wanted, including torture you, without any real fear of recrimination, wouldn’t you become sullen and paranoid? And if you were then suddenly released, as mysteriously as you’d been arrested, wouldn’t you want revenge? Guantanamo turned a young, low-level footsoldier into a terrorist. I don’t understand why anyone would be surprised.


http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/02/22/AR2009022202384.html

It's Milk!

My girlfriend and I watched the Academy Awards last night. It's not something I'm inclined to do normally, because I live under a metaphorical rock and have usually never seen most of the movies up for awards. This year was much the same except for one notable exception: Milk. The film was a biography of Harvey Milk, the first openly gay man to be elected to a public office in the United States. It was incredibly well made, offering up a story known mostly to people in gay culture and making it accessible to a wider audience. How wide is debatable, since it wasn't one of the more widely distributed movies of the year. When my girlfriend came to visit me in Florida we had to drive for over an hour to see it at the one theater in the area where it was listed.

It was worth the drive.

We both agreed that Sean Penn deserved an Oscar. He became Harvey Milk, so much so that clips of photos from the '70s interspersed with footage of the film were almost indistinguishable. That Penn as an actor could create a character who was clearly gay without once approaching the line of stereotype is nothing short of a miracle, one that everyone in the gay community viewed with both relief and applause.

The film drew several Oscar nominations, including Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, and Best Original Screenplay. It won two, Best Actor and Best Screenplay, both well deserved. The movie was incredibly well-written, told in a series of narratives and flashbacks that highlighted the most important aspects of Milk's life. And Sean Penn, as I said before, was simply amazing.

Both Penn and Dustin Lance Black, the writer, alluded to Prop 8 in their acceptance speeches. It's an important reminder that while Milk died thirty years ago, the issues he worked hard for are still timely in our society today.

Black's Speech:



Penn's Speech:



My thanks to both of them for making this amazing movie, and for recognizing its importance in our country today. Hopefully their statements and these awards will raise consciousness for those who still haven't figured out that people are people, no matter who they love. Blessed be.

Aerial Class, again

This afternoon I took another aerial class. New moves, new techniques, some of which I mastered, many of which I did not. The battlescar count for this week includes broken blisters on both palms, a bruise on the inside of my upper arm, and rope burns on the tops of both feet. Mrs. Ladies-Can't-Have-Calluses left after about ten minutes. Apparently she figured out it's not for her.

It is a reasonable question, why people would engage in activities that result in low-grade pain. Sensible people generally keep their feet on the ground, and the avoidance of pain is one of the hallmarks of behavioral theory. Are some of us just masochists who perversely enjoy being punished? Probably. But I think that most of us realize that whatever we gain from our activities far outweighs the discomfort. Blisters are a small price to pay for the sensation of flying, and the rope burns show that I'm strong enough not to fall. And when your battlescars show that you can temporarily outsmart gravity, it's normal to take pride in them. Not to mention that the aesthetic value of dancing in the air is worth whatever side effects you'll find. I haven't yet found the showoff factor in aerial that I've found in fencing, where we all get together and compare our bruises, but I'm sure that it exists. In the meantime, though, we all enjoy the dance.

Fidelity

Courage Campaign, a liberal California org, teamed up with Regina Spektor to create this video protesting Proposition 8. The Supreme Court will hear arguments about Prop 8 on March 5, with a decision expected within 90 days. I'm not often in favor of bandwagons, but in this case...
Watch the video. Sign the petition. Spread the word.



Petition at http://www.couragecampaign.org/page/s/divorce

The Future has Officially Arrived

I found this link today and was floored. Apparently a man who had both leukemia and HIV now has detectable levels of neither following a stem cell transplant. He was given the treatment largely for the leukemia, but the doctors, knowing that the man was HIV positive, derived the stem cells from a donor with the HIV-resistant gene found in 1-3% of people of European descent. As I understand it, no one had much idea of whether the resistant donor gene would have any effect, and since the transplant was for the leukemia, HIV wasn't the main concern. But apparently it worked. Two years post-op, and the man has no signs of disease. I'm impressed.

It's not a solution that will work for most people, because stem cell transplants are fairly drastic procedures in and of themselves. But I think gene therapy is on the way. Noninvasive types of gene therapy could probably be in their final rounds of testing in about five years' time (based on my understanding of where the technology is now and my knowledge of how long clinical trials take). Once it's all tested, gene therapy could be the hope that millions of people are looking for, an alternative to AZT and the drug cocktails that are the current treatments for HIV and AIDS.

Here's to positive uses of stem cells!

http://www.cnn.com/2009/HEALTH/02/11/health.hiv.stemcell/index.html

Clarification

So, to clarify my last post...

I got a call from HR yesterday saying that there's not enough work in Morocco right now so they're letting go of expat leaders there. Those expats from the EU (i.e., most of them) will be leading trips in Europe. Those expats from the US (i.e., me) are in limbo. I am neither officially employed nor officially unemployed right now. I may be able to get transferred to a region where things are stronger (i.e., somewhere in Asia). Or I may get transferred to an affiliate company in the States. Neither of these things would be bad, and both would definitely beat undergoing a job search. But...

Morocco. It's been my home for a year. And while day-to-day life there isn't easy in the long term...it's such an amazing place. And I will miss many things. Sitting on the ramparts overlooking the sea in Essaouira. Getting lost and found again and again in Fes. Fresh orange juice for 3dh in Marrakech. Watching weavers and potters at work. Practicing Arabic. Seeing my Moroccan friends.

So I will miss Morocco. And I will try to go back there. Maybe to work, maybe to study, maybe just to visit. But I will be back. It's too much a part of me now to give it up.

Tour Leader for Hire

For Hire: One Tour Leader
Skills: Good with languages. Fluent French, decent Italian, beginning Arabic. Will learn other languages at will. Good at crossing cultural and linguistic barriers. Good negotiator. Manages groups well. Big on sustainability. Happy to work anywhere on earth. Needs job.
Any takers?

Aerial Dance and Gender Stereotypes

Earlier today I took an aerial dance class, my second one so far. It's the most fun I've had in a while, in terms of physical activity; my four-times-a-week yoga classes are good for getting back in shape, but not really what I would call "fun".(Too structured, always the same poses, more emphasis on staying in the postures than in the joy of movement). Aerial, on the other hand, is a form of dance, which means that joy in movement is integral. Doing amazing feats and making them look effortless and pretty...that's what movement is about.

So. Technique. You step up to the low trapeze, wrap your hands around it, and hang your weight down, making sure to protect your neck. Explore moving while hanging from the bar, see how it feels, that's the first step. Next step is to get up. Hold on to the bar, drop your weight down, and kick your feet up to place them between your hands. Hook your knees over the bar. Let go with your hands and arch your back. Now swing yourself back up to hold on to the bar with your hands, and walk your hands up the rope to pull yourself up to a sitting position. Ready to move on? Disengage your right leg from the bar and extend it down. Slide your left knee to one corner of the bar, and brace your right shoulder blade against the opposite rope. It will hold you, despite what you may think. Disengage your shoulder blade from the rope, hook your left elbow over the bar, and extend yoru right arm. You should be hanging from your left knee and your left elbow, with your body in a straight line extended below the bar. For something even more advanced, straighten your left leg and hook your foot aorund the rope. Bring your right hand up to the bar and let go with your left hand. You're now hanging below the bar with one wrist and one ankle. Had enough? Now you can get down. From the hanging position, just bring both hands up to hold the bar as you kick your feet down to land gracefully below.

We practice like this for an hour and a half. As a beginner, the wooden bar hurts my hands, I get rope burns on my palms, my triceps aren't strong enough to hold my full weight for very long, and my graceful landings are often more like thuds. By the end of class, my arms want to fall off. But it's fun, and I'm enjoying it. I look forward to getting stronger muscles and bigger calluses so I can stay up longer. I can't wait to develop more technique and artistic skill.

After class today, I struck up a conversation with an older woman who was tyring the class out. Fortysomething and built like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, she understandably had a bit of trouble. But she seemed nice enough, so we chatted a bit. She said that her arms hurt, and I said that was to be expected. After my first class I could barely lift grocery bags for the next several days. Then she said she didn't want calluses on her hands, because those look bad on women, and people would think badly of her. I suggested athletic tape as protection, but then...

"Defy gender stereotypes," I said, as I often do when confronted with the idea that there are things that women shouldn't do.
"What?" she responded, as though she must have misheard what I'd said.
"Defy gender stereotypes. Go against them. They're bad."
The dawn of horrified comprehension appeared. With a look of the most righteous possible indignation, she primly said "I believe in them very strongly." Her tone brooked no argument.

Oh. Oops.

Now, I admittedly self-select the people I hang out with. Most of my friends are queer or queer-friendly or just don't give a damn one way or the other what conventional wisdom says about how they should behave. I know boys who sew and girls who fix plumbing, and they're all quite comfortable with their gender identities. Even my friends who do partake in "stereotypical" activities will fight tooth and nail to say and show that they can do other things as well. Never have I ever in my life talked to someone, a woman no less, who "belives very strongly" in a system designed to keep us all rigidly in our (subordinate) place.

This woman won't do anything that will give her bruises, cuts, scrapes, blisters, calluses, or any other blemish. She's had five babies (which is worse for your body than most other activities I can think of that would result in bruising). She likes to pamper herself. (I could be uncharitable and say that this combination probably directly contributes to her Pillsbury shape, but that would be mean and unfair so I'll desist). She proceeded to tell me, in the most patronizing way possible, that I might think differently while I'm young and foolish but as I get older my opinions will change and I'll realize, like her, that the stereotypes are true.

Not bloody likely, I thought, but did not say. I bid her a polite goodbye. I doubt that I'll see her again. Aerial dance is not for the fainthearted, and if you're afraid of a few blisters you'll never get far. (That's true of most things, after all). As for me, I take pride in my bruises. I take pride in my calluses, scratches, and scars. They show what I've done, where I've been, what I've accomplished. From ballet feet to rope-burned palms, I have it all, and I'm not ashamed. So if you're looking for a nice, pretty, scarless girl to cook and clean and have babies, don't wait up for me.

I'll be on the trapeze.


Trapeze artist Emily Schadel

That's So Gay

I recently found on the GLSEN (Gay, Lesbian, Straight Education Network)website a set of ads geared toward teens to discourage the use of the phrase "that's so gay." Not sure how well it will work, but I do like the idea. Apparently the campaign was launched in October, and has won awards for creative and sensitive handling of the issue, which is good. Now the question is, will people listen?

There are three videos, each one featuring a different celebrity. Hillary Duff, Wanda Sykes, and, my personal favorite, Laurel Holloman of "The L Word."

Laurel Holloman's video is below. For the others, go to
http://www.thinkb4youspeak.com/

The Ultimate Narcotic

Last Friday, my girlfriend decided to cook us a fancy dinner at home. She went to the nearby market and bought bluefish, cream, and spinach linguini. She wouldn't tell me what was for dessert. After dinner she chased me from the kitchen, with several cautionings of "I've never tried this before" and "I don't know if this will work." So I stayed in the bedroom, reading Margaret Cho and wondering what the hell kind of dessert involved a pot of boiling water and a can of whipped cream. Ten minutes of so later I found out.

Chocolate Ravioli.

I was dubious, I admit. Chocolate pasta? How does that work? But with willing suspension of disbelief, I took a bite. And melted.

The ravioli are made with cocoa powder added to the pasta itself, and are stuffed with mascarpone and ricotta blended with bittersweet chocolate. They are divine. Incredibly rich. My girlfriend had bought six, but we found that we could only eat two each before lying back and falling asleep fully clothed with the lights on in a chocolate-induced coma. We woke up a few hours later, confused but still high.

So if you feel the need for opiates but can't get them prescribed, try chocolate pasta. Your girlfriend will thank you. :p

Prop 8, the musical

Most people have seen it at this point, but I'm posting it because it's great. The best way to deal with the politics you hate is to make fun of it, and this video is the perfect example.

Enjoy!

"Prop 8 - The Musical" starring Jack Black, John C. Reilly, and many more... from Jack Black

Make your own!

In order to publicize the sea kitten campaign, PETA also has a "make your own sea kitten" section on their website. It's surprisingly fun, particularly when you do things like combine moustaches and tiaras on them :p.



Create Your Own Sea Kitten at peta.org!

I eat sea kittens raw!

Apparently, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA) has decided that fish need new PR. So, instead of "fish," swimming sea creatures with fins will henceforth be referred to as "sea kittens." The rationale being that "no one would want to hurt a sea kitten!"

http://www.peta.org/sea_kittens/about.asp

As it turns out...sea kittens are tasty, especially in the form of sushi. Which led a friend of mine, at a group sushi dinner in Boston, to propose making shirts for all of us that proclaim "I eat sea kittens raw." Because, in fact, we do.

Now, I refer to myself as a vegetarian. Technically I'm a pescatarian, because I'm vegetarian + fish. But normal people go "huh?" if I use big words, so I generally stick to explaining that veggies + fish = good. I've been called a hypocrite a number of times because I don't "go all the way," i.e., I'm not completely vegetarian or vegan. And the reason is...being completely vegetarian sucks. I tried it for a month or so, when I first went veg. At the time, I was dancing and fencing four days a week and becoming horribly protein deficient and anemic because a pure vegetarian diet within the constrains of a college dining hall was not sufficient to supply the nutritional needs of an athlete. I became vegetarian for health reasons, not ethics, and I missed seafood. I see nothing wrong with killing animals for food. The plants I eat die too. I do have a problem with the practices used in the megafarming of livestock, but if I really wanted to eat meat I could easily get around that by eating organic-free-range-and-humanely-killed-animals. Which brings me back to why I still eat sea kittens.

My reason for being vegetarian, quite simply, is that meat makes me sick. Physically ill. It's like lactose intolerance, only with meat. My body doesn't produce the right enzymes, and I'm not willing to eat something that causes me intense physical pain. So birds and mammals are outside my natural food chain. Sea kittens are not, because seafood in general is healthy for me and does not make me ill. Yes, there are problems with deep-sea trawling and overfishing that get my ethics up. And I'm still working out the best way to handle that. But in the meantime, I'm going to eat what keeps me healthy. And raw sea kittens are definitely on that list.