Category: Philosophy

It is Earth Day.

Another strange confluence of random events, generated by random people on this planet has me vibrating with unsettled energy. Even my use of the word “random” is incomplete to my meaning, for my circle is proof positive that kindreds usually connect one way or another.

I spent the better part of the week thinking about Class War, humans degenerating to our basest natures and what it would take to awaken us to how to be in this world as part of the whole of it.

My mind buzzes around trying to work the layers of the personal/ego expectations with the geopolitical/economic and the humanity/morality aspects of everything that is going on. All at once. The intuitive flashes that are the knowing/unknowing swirl through my soul at unpredictable intervals.

I say things like “the center cannot hold” in my admittedly cryptic way. For someone who talks a lot, writes a lot, I apparently am very cryptic. Heh. To those who know me, or perhaps just know more, I always assume they dig the deeper part of this.

The big, bad scary isn’t just the shadow government, human abuses or economic failure.

Its simple, really. Human existence itself is no longer sustainable on a planetary level.

The rest is just mental masturbation trying to either make ourselves as comfortable as possible during these end times, or delude ourselves into thinking we can reverse the irreversible. More, it may be only the attempt to lie to ourselves and think we, as the enlightened will somehow survive this and create a better world.

Mathematically, scientifically, the odds are greatly against that.

My first impulse was to write about the fact that today was the National Day of Silence, which was first observed at the University of Virginia in 1996 and has been sponsored by GLSEN (the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Educational Network) since 2000.  If you feel like helping them out, I am sure everyone would be thankful.

But something else has been happening this week as well, out in Colorado.  And this thing, a trial in the murder of a young transwoman, demands words, not silence.  It has my focus, my attention.

Will it grab yours?

Recently I’ve read several essays gloating about the death of the anti-gay forces.  I understand the urge to do that gloating, but I’d like to caution people that a longer view is useful.  We have, in fact, won very little thus far.

And that ugly beast may be mortally wounded, but it is still quite dangerous.  Declaring victory too soon is also dangerous, if it means people stop working towards equality.

Perhaps a look at where we have come from and what we have accomplished so far is in order.  Enclosed within is a little amateur history of the movement for GLBT rights.

It was supposed to be Gay Pride Week here on campus.  Everything has conspired to screw that up, not the least of which were apathy and poor organizational ability by the volunteer coordinators of the event, including yours truly.

But I did write a speech and I don’t want to waste it.  You’ll find it on the other side, embellished with whatever doo-dads I can think of, find, or create.

It’s that time of year again.  Next week is Gay Pride Week on campus here at Bloomfield College.  Sometimes it is a little earlier, but usually it is a little later.  But the second week of April includes Easter Break, so it was now or never.

I’d love it if it were a time of joy.  But I often find it to be rather depressing.  I’ve been one of the co-coordinators of the Gay/NonGay Alliance since I got a full-time job here in 2001.  I wish I could say it has been rewarding.

The truth is that it has all been an uphill journey.  No matter which direction one looks, it is uphill.

On Tuesday I attended our annual Cyrus H. Holley Lecture on applied ethics.  The speaker was a retired colleague, Professor Emeritus of History Steve Golin, a well-known labor historian (see The Fragile Bridge:  Paterson Silk Strike, 1913 and The Newark Teacher Strikes:  Hopes on the Line), who lectured on History, Cynicism and Hope.

Therein lie the roots of this riff.

And hereafter will lie a little history (or something simulating history), a little cynicism, and…with any luck…some hope.  And maybe I need something to tie them loosely together.

Greed.

News out of West Virginia is that the State Senate passed a bill adding protection for sexual orientation (and age) to its anti-discrimination law.  While I applaud that, I also understand that it is not sufficient to protect the people most likely to be discriminated against.  And I don’t just mean transfolk.  I mean gays and lesbians…and even straight people…who do not perform their gender role to the liking of those who would discriminate.

A lot of folks just don’t get that.  A lot of people believe that transpeople are just out to get what they can for themselves and do not comprehend that in working for protections based on gender identity, we are concerned about you…and you…and you, too.

What people seem not to be able to accept is that we all have gender identities…every single one of us.

Prior to speaking at The Convention on Modern Liberty Phillip Pullman (author of The Golden Compass, The Subtle Knife, and others) released a statement regarding Britain’s recent history and his worries for  the future.

Well worth the read, but it’s been taken down from the Times website, and it appears to have vanished from the Google cache, also. So, in the interest of preservation, here’s a copy.

As usual as Friday approaches, I start panicking because I haven’t a clue what to write about.  That especially happens around midterm as we crawl towards Spring Break.  On more week before refreshing can commence.

It is often the case, however, that events provide an idea.  This one crystalized with plf515‘s morning offering, WGLB presents: Stereotype.

In my mind I teamed this together with several other recent events, listed after the fold, and the idea of writing about teaching against stereotypes arose.  I’m hoping to generate some helpers, both in the here and now and to pick up the burden after I die.

Stereotypes are ubiquitous.  I battle them consistently.  All my political battles, not just for GLBT rights, but also for Native American rights, against the English-only doofi, for the poor and downtrodden, against racism and religious and ethnic discrimination, for the equality of women, against bullying…and so many, many more, all have at their root the battle against stereotypes.

Be aware that if you choose this path, you will be called sanctimonious, self-absorbed, self-important, thin-skinned fascist against freedom of speech.

If that’s the price to be paid, so be it.

I’ve made no secret lately that I was going to appear in Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues, as Woman #1 (Calpernia Addams) in the…well it is not exactly a monologue, but rather a chorus…They Beat the Girl Out of My Boy…Or So They Tried.

The two-night run at Bloomfield College’s Van Fossan Theater is now over and I am exhausted and have a splitting headache from interacting with the stage lights.  I’m tired and I’m cranky.

Word on the street was that the event was not to be missed.  But then again, each night only had about 120-140 in the audience.

Part of the proceeds went to help combat the systematic maltreatment of women (and men) in the Democratic Republic of Congo in the quest for blood coltan, in what has become known as The Playstation War.  The remainder went to the The Safe House Shelter for battered women, which is affiliated with Clara Maass Hospital.

Affiliated with our production was a teach-in on the DRC and a Clotheline Project in March.

And one more presentation, which is the main purpose of this essay, against the backdrop of these other educational efforts.

I’ll be truthful with you.  But then, I always am.  So maybe I should say I’ll be truthful again.

I’m exhausted.  I got up early enough this morning and did some of my usual Friday morning things, but around 11 I fell asleep on the couch with Paula Deen and Giada De Laurentiis cooking who knows what.  Certainly not me, because I passed right on out.  And I slept for two and a half hours.

So now I am fuzzy-headed in the extreme, my eyes will hardly focus, and I have much less time than I usually do to finish my Friday column.

But I know I have a topic here somewhere, a topic that concerned my earlier comments.  Or at least I had one.

Last week I was told somewhere that Friday evening on the Internet is not the time or place for anything resembling serious discussion.  Really?  Who made that rule?

Debbie and I were informed about a week ago that our doctor was changing locations, leaving the Family Health Center in Montclair for another practice a half hour away.  We are left with the decision of whether to follow her or keep going to the Family Health Center.

For me, that’s not as straightforward a decision as it would be for most people.

Treatment by medical personnel, doctors, nurses and office staff can be a critical issue or transfolk.

Of course, I can only speak for myself and my experience should not be deemed universal.  That could be the point…or at least one of them.