On a cold, New Years Eve afternoon, waiting to start work, Jake and I sit outside in the cold away from the distracting noises of the inside of a café. We sit at a cold, dirty metal table, trying to dodge barbeque stains. To this interview, he brought with him The New American Standard Bible, and, in the leather cover was his name inscribed.
I’m from a town called Angel’s Camp
About two hours east of the bay area.
Moved to the bay area in December of 2005,
Right after I got married
You’re typically going to find a tight knit community,
Small town, so people know everybody,
Handful of churches up there.
You’ve got everything.
You’ve got just standard protestant churches,
You’ve got Catholic churches,
Jehovah’s witness,
Mormons,
You don’t really find a lot of eastern religions
I’m a Protestant.
Everything that I do
I filter through my understanding
Of who God is and
How I’m supposed to be following him.
What I do, what I see and
How I perceive things
I do through what the bible says
To be absolute truth.
I judge what I do as what
I would call wrong is based on what the bible says,
What I do right,
Is based on what the bible says.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Ryan: Have You Talked to God Today?
This interview occurred in his one bedroom apartment in Marina, a small little town five minutes north of the city of Monterey. We sat in his living room, him sitting backwards in a chair, smoking an extra long, extra thickly rolled joint and drinking shots of Tequila Rose and an awful sounding 40oz. Throughout the interview, he was trying to make sure that his cat, Hunter (named after Hunter S Thompson) didn’t try to go out on his non existent balcony that was in the middle of being renovated.
Do I consider myself to be religious?
That’s a really complicated question with me,
And that’s a good question.
I grew up being a child of an ex nun (adopted)
Went to school every day,
Middle school and had to go to church
At 5:30 in the morning, it was ridiculous.
You know, when you finally get set free
You want to run away,
And you do run away but
I’ve had plenty of time away and
I’ve actually just been coming around
To the fact that I don’t care about other people’s
Religions
I actually believe in everything
In a sense, even to the dark side.
I just kind of let people be.
I can be very critical of the Catholic church…
Well, they don’t believe in the gay marriage,
I grew up with a roman catholic church,
My mom was a nun,
My father figure is a Franciscan friar,
A deeper history goes in,
They were supposed to get married,
But they didn’t.
So my whole life, every day,
My conversation with my mom goes,
“Have you talked to god today?” it’s like…uh…
Do I consider myself to be religious?
That’s a really complicated question with me,
And that’s a good question.
I grew up being a child of an ex nun (adopted)
Went to school every day,
Middle school and had to go to church
At 5:30 in the morning, it was ridiculous.
You know, when you finally get set free
You want to run away,
And you do run away but
I’ve had plenty of time away and
I’ve actually just been coming around
To the fact that I don’t care about other people’s
Religions
I actually believe in everything
In a sense, even to the dark side.
I just kind of let people be.
I can be very critical of the Catholic church…
Well, they don’t believe in the gay marriage,
I grew up with a roman catholic church,
My mom was a nun,
My father figure is a Franciscan friar,
A deeper history goes in,
They were supposed to get married,
But they didn’t.
So my whole life, every day,
My conversation with my mom goes,
“Have you talked to god today?” it’s like…uh…
Therese: For All People
If you want to go by any sort of bible,
Then take your new testament as
A means to a better life, or
Take the incriminations or
Judgments coming from a society
That really, in my opinion,
Needed to try to grow stronger
It’s not about religion
Or recognition
Or ritual.
It’s about the fact that
The 14th amendment was created
In a document by a government
That was founded by and for the people,
The people,
Not just the white people,
The black people,
Not just the gay people,
Not just the straight people.
For all people.
To be equally protected under the tenants of those laws
Then take your new testament as
A means to a better life, or
Take the incriminations or
Judgments coming from a society
That really, in my opinion,
Needed to try to grow stronger
It’s not about religion
Or recognition
Or ritual.
It’s about the fact that
The 14th amendment was created
In a document by a government
That was founded by and for the people,
The people,
Not just the white people,
The black people,
Not just the gay people,
Not just the straight people.
For all people.
To be equally protected under the tenants of those laws
Jewel: To Be Happy
My friends don’t really make a point
”It’s against our religion”
Well, everyone has different types of religion,
What if somebody doesn’t identify with your religion?
Can same sex marriage be okay?
So I think the religion element should
Not even be brought into the context of prop 8.
Yes, people get married in a church,
But then there are people who
Don’t want to get married in a church,
It’s all about what you believe
I believe people should be able to be happy.
”It’s against our religion”
Well, everyone has different types of religion,
What if somebody doesn’t identify with your religion?
Can same sex marriage be okay?
So I think the religion element should
Not even be brought into the context of prop 8.
Yes, people get married in a church,
But then there are people who
Don’t want to get married in a church,
It’s all about what you believe
I believe people should be able to be happy.
On Religion:
I’m not, of course, an expert of religion, but it seems to me
That the major faiths have much more in common than they are
Willing to admit. They share a basic point of departure- that is,
Our world and our existence are not freaks of chance but rather part of
A mysterious, yet integral, act whose sources, direction,
And purpose are difficult to perceive in their entirety. And they
Share a large complex of moral imperatives that this mysterious
Act implies. In my view, whatever differences these religions
Might have are not as important as these fundamental similarities…
- Sharif Abdullah, Creating a World that Works for All
That the major faiths have much more in common than they are
Willing to admit. They share a basic point of departure- that is,
Our world and our existence are not freaks of chance but rather part of
A mysterious, yet integral, act whose sources, direction,
And purpose are difficult to perceive in their entirety. And they
Share a large complex of moral imperatives that this mysterious
Act implies. In my view, whatever differences these religions
Might have are not as important as these fundamental similarities…
- Sharif Abdullah, Creating a World that Works for All
Mary: Corrupt
For Mary’s particular interview, I decided to have it in the park at a bench. We each had our respective drinks- me with an iced tea, her with her cup of coffee and her Marlboro red 100’s. A beautiful summer’s day, she and I both sat straddling the pinkish- orangeish table, facing each other.
I’m a centrist.
In some ways,
I lean very much to the right,
In some ways I lean to the left,
I’m a person that likes to look at
Each individual issue,
I don’t identify with either political party
‘Cause I think politics in this country
Has gotten extraordinarily corrupt.
It’s funny,
I had an argument with my husband about that
“No, no, I lived in Latin America where it’s very corrupt”
He came here and he saw, yea, It can be very corrupt.
People are going to support who is going to pay them the most.
I’ve gotten disgusted with the whole matter.
I tend to look at everything, each individual issue and
I look at my own conscience and
I try to go that way.
Sometimes it’s very difficult
If people don’t understand the motivations behind them
They’ll get the wrong impression
On prop 8, I voted yes.
I’d like to have the chance to explain myself.
I am, deep down, a very private person.
Bedroom issues should be kept out of public policy.
Period.
I’m a centrist.
In some ways,
I lean very much to the right,
In some ways I lean to the left,
I’m a person that likes to look at
Each individual issue,
I don’t identify with either political party
‘Cause I think politics in this country
Has gotten extraordinarily corrupt.
It’s funny,
I had an argument with my husband about that
“No, no, I lived in Latin America where it’s very corrupt”
He came here and he saw, yea, It can be very corrupt.
People are going to support who is going to pay them the most.
I’ve gotten disgusted with the whole matter.
I tend to look at everything, each individual issue and
I look at my own conscience and
I try to go that way.
Sometimes it’s very difficult
If people don’t understand the motivations behind them
They’ll get the wrong impression
On prop 8, I voted yes.
I’d like to have the chance to explain myself.
I am, deep down, a very private person.
Bedroom issues should be kept out of public policy.
Period.
Therese: I Won't Go Away
When this interview started, it originated inside her house. In front of us lay a wooden coffee table that had only my notebooks and a large jasbiscus (jasmine/ hibiscus) iced tea that had grown warm driving from downtown Walnut Creek to Carmel Valley.
I would consider myself a humanist,
I can’t consider myself liberal because
I’m not gonna sit on someone’s wall and
Yell:
“I’m here,
I’m queer,
I won’t go away”
I think they’re painfully aware of that.
I just live my life and
Try to be as humane
As possible and
I make my political decisions
Informed by that as well
I would consider myself a humanist,
I can’t consider myself liberal because
I’m not gonna sit on someone’s wall and
Yell:
“I’m here,
I’m queer,
I won’t go away”
I think they’re painfully aware of that.
I just live my life and
Try to be as humane
As possible and
I make my political decisions
Informed by that as well
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Karen: To Love
Karen sits in front of me at a table in the shade, and before either of us sat down, she pulled out her pack of American Spirits cigarettes and hands me a book titled ‘Creating a World that Works for All’, and nothing seemed more indicative of how the interview was going to go. She reaches for my light blue bic lighter sitting just past her latte in a ceramic mug. She peers at me through her glasses and awaits patiently for the questions to begin.
She responds to my questions in an incredibly passionate manner of which I was eternally grateful.
Liberal
A deep belief that all people have rights,
To opportunity,
To health care,
To water,
To basic living and
We cannot, as a society,
Take care of each other in that manner.
I have some gay friends
It’s always been my belief
That people loving each other
Is loving each other and
That gender doesn’t really
Have anything to do with it
And as far as understanding
Gay people and gay rights,
I guess my curiosity has just
Led me to ask a lot of questions
And to know these people,
They’re not any different from me,
Not at all different and
It’s a human right to love who you want to love
She responds to my questions in an incredibly passionate manner of which I was eternally grateful.
Liberal
A deep belief that all people have rights,
To opportunity,
To health care,
To water,
To basic living and
We cannot, as a society,
Take care of each other in that manner.
I have some gay friends
It’s always been my belief
That people loving each other
Is loving each other and
That gender doesn’t really
Have anything to do with it
And as far as understanding
Gay people and gay rights,
I guess my curiosity has just
Led me to ask a lot of questions
And to know these people,
They’re not any different from me,
Not at all different and
It’s a human right to love who you want to love
Introduction to Jacob Bibee
…Oh, everyone believes on how they think it
Oughtta be, oh, everyone believes
And they’re not going easily.
Belief is a beautiful armor,
It makes for the heaviest sword,
like punching under water
You can never hit who you’re tryin’ for…
-J. Mayer, Belief
Wow, what can I say about Jake? A young man who went from being just one of those people you see from time to time when he came in for a cup of coffee, to being a co worker, what a tremendous gift. In a lot of respects, I have grown to understand him despite our obvious differences. I’ve come to see him as an incredibly brave man who holds onto something with a grip that not a lot of people share- faith. His devotion to scripture has both guided and shaped who he has become as the married, all- American man in his mid twenties that he is.
Our first chance to really talk, unfortunately happened during our first training session together at work. Understanding that getting into political/ religious conversation on the clock can get hairy, there wasn’t a lot of room for either of us to really listen or understand the other person. Despite how different I realized we were, I could tell that he meant no harm; it was important to me, in that first conversation, that I let him know I too, mean no harm.
From the things he had to say about wanting to go to Iraq as a proud American soldier, to his religion, I knew, that if he were willing, he would be the most obvious choice to interview for this project. I call him brave and that has absolutely nothing to do with his desire to fight the war. It takes a tremendous amount of courage, faith, and confidence to say things that you’re aware are not the most popular heard beliefs amongst your peers. I gave him the option of anonymity, like I’d given everyone else, but, with great pride, he shared his thoughts with me. He walked into the interview concerned that he would lose my comraderie; after putting his mind at ease, he allowed me to see what makes him who he is. The more difficult it was for me to hear, the more I knew I needed him to say the things he did. I offered minimal protest when I disagreed, because, agree or not, proposition 8 passed because a lot of Californians believe as he does, but are not willing to talk about it- least of all, with me.
His views, though not necessarily popularly held, need to heard just like everyone else’s. If people choose only to hear the things that are easy and the things that they agree with, there is no growth for anyone. It’s interesting, after our first initial interview, the roles reversed over cleaning an espresso machine and sweeping up mystery beans: he began to ask me questions.
Like I said, Jake…what a tremendous gift.
Oughtta be, oh, everyone believes
And they’re not going easily.
Belief is a beautiful armor,
It makes for the heaviest sword,
like punching under water
You can never hit who you’re tryin’ for…
-J. Mayer, Belief
Wow, what can I say about Jake? A young man who went from being just one of those people you see from time to time when he came in for a cup of coffee, to being a co worker, what a tremendous gift. In a lot of respects, I have grown to understand him despite our obvious differences. I’ve come to see him as an incredibly brave man who holds onto something with a grip that not a lot of people share- faith. His devotion to scripture has both guided and shaped who he has become as the married, all- American man in his mid twenties that he is.
Our first chance to really talk, unfortunately happened during our first training session together at work. Understanding that getting into political/ religious conversation on the clock can get hairy, there wasn’t a lot of room for either of us to really listen or understand the other person. Despite how different I realized we were, I could tell that he meant no harm; it was important to me, in that first conversation, that I let him know I too, mean no harm.
From the things he had to say about wanting to go to Iraq as a proud American soldier, to his religion, I knew, that if he were willing, he would be the most obvious choice to interview for this project. I call him brave and that has absolutely nothing to do with his desire to fight the war. It takes a tremendous amount of courage, faith, and confidence to say things that you’re aware are not the most popular heard beliefs amongst your peers. I gave him the option of anonymity, like I’d given everyone else, but, with great pride, he shared his thoughts with me. He walked into the interview concerned that he would lose my comraderie; after putting his mind at ease, he allowed me to see what makes him who he is. The more difficult it was for me to hear, the more I knew I needed him to say the things he did. I offered minimal protest when I disagreed, because, agree or not, proposition 8 passed because a lot of Californians believe as he does, but are not willing to talk about it- least of all, with me.
His views, though not necessarily popularly held, need to heard just like everyone else’s. If people choose only to hear the things that are easy and the things that they agree with, there is no growth for anyone. It’s interesting, after our first initial interview, the roles reversed over cleaning an espresso machine and sweeping up mystery beans: he began to ask me questions.
Like I said, Jake…what a tremendous gift.
Introduction To Therese Scott
"A Woman's Lament"- By Therese Scott
In the seventies, I thought nothing of strolling down the beach smoking a joint. I called it hiding in plain sight. Those days are gone. This being said, I am still hiding in plain sight.
I work in a grocery store. Daily, I am asked things like:
“Dude, where’s the beer at”?
“Excuse me, sir, do you have a bathroom”?
In the course of my day, I can hear:
“Tell him thank-you honey”, when I help a child locate their desired treat.
Or told:
“Thanks buddy, this is just what I need”.
I don’t mind being asked questions or being thanked for doing my job, I only mind that the people addressing me aren’t really addressing me; they can’t be addressing me, I’m a woman.
I’m not Transgendered, I’m not a “Separatist Lesbian Feminist, I’m not a Butch Dyke. I am a woman who refuses to insert myself into a reality that limits me; unfortunately, my resistance limits me.
I was raised by a runway model, a woman described by one fan of her racing career as “a cross between Audrey and Katherine Hepburn”. She often wore faded jeans, a watch cap, an old sweatshirt and worn sneakers.
Me, I was grunge before it existed.
I’ve been living in baggy jeans, layered shirts, Pendleton’s and comfortable boots, ball caps, horn rim Ray Bans and funky ski caps since 1974. I wear sports bras, I am not afraid of “uni-boob syndrome”. I really don’t care to follow fashion trends and I flatly refuse to dress to let people know what sex I am; if they can’t tell, it’s their problem.
When I was about fourteen years old, I declared to my family and friends that I was gay. My mother was unsurprised and responded to my declaration with:
“I figured something was up when you didn’t ask for refills of your birth control pills.”
Pragmatism is something we share, my mother and I.
Mom and I fought about my fervent dislike of dresses long before I came out to her. I know that this society needs visual cues but to force myself to dress in complete opposition to my true nature is anathematic to my deepest being. I am here to care for others and myself, I am a steward of humanity, but I will no longer subject myself to the senseless behaviors of individuals who refuse to really see the people with whom they interact on a daily basis.
My partner of fourteen years has no sympathy for my indignation because she was trained to “dress for success”. After my mom stopped fighting with me over clothing, I dressed as I pleased and was comfortable. I am a human woman, not a clothes mannequin for the masses.
I am a woman who looks into peoples’ eyes. I spent too many years as a shamed recipient of childhood sexual abuse and young adult brutal physical and psychological rape; I have had to force myself to be present, I would like the rest of the people around me to join with me in reasonable human behavior.
If the world is in the path of a paradigm shift, why do people resist really seeing each other? Why is it so scary for people to look, really look at each other? Who is the one who started the rumor that gay will infect you if you let it near you; let it live in your neighborhood? It is time for the nonsense to stop, it must stop, now.
My father can’t speak to me because he feels guilt for not being there for me when I was a child; he’s fearful and guilty because I’m gay. He isn’t ashamed of the fact that his only son won’t venture into the states to see his son because he has a child support judgment against him in Costa Rica that is much less expensive than the one against him from Atlanta Georgia.
But I’m gay…
When I came out to my father he said:
“Good thing you said something little girl cause I was just about to hit on your girlfriend”. Did he talk like that to my brother when he brought his girlfriend(s), over for Scott family events?
I don’t think so.
The fact of my homosexuality has lived as a divisive undercurrent in my life since I came out. Society placed me in a category, parts of my family set me aside, my “community”, would have nothing to do with me because I was underage and reason for incarceration.
“You’re fine little sister, but fifteen will get me twenty”.
The world was still too close to seeing gay as a disease, a punishable offense back in 1974. It was not pretty to be gay, there was no LGBTG community to embrace my fellow lesbians and I back then. The shadow of Lyndon Larouche would hang darkly over the Gay community by 1978 and we all lived with the threat of legislation that would threaten our human rights.
We were labeled as lesbian separatists. If a straight mother saw me talking with her daughter, I was subjected to a withering glance and the all too familiar “I’ll kill you if you even think of touching my daughter”, subtext. It was not me that these women needed to protect their daughters from but their male friends and family members. It was my uncle who turned me out when I was eight years old, my neighbor, who wanted to watch me, his teenage neighbor “service”, his wife.
The world now and the world of the seventies are so very much the same; the only thing that has changed is the dialogue. I as a Lesbian am protected in my free speech now by the same rights that were not supported in the seventies; if the laws existed, they weren’t enforced.
In the seventies, I was supposed to jump at any chance to warm up some guys wife while he “enjoyed the show”, possibly “spanking the monkey”. I trust my experiences, the only thing that’s changed is the way we use our words in public. I am not a ravening, howling, rabid dog, maddened by my rampant disease of Homosexuality. I did not then nor do I need now, “the right man”. I’ve been with plenty of men, and I still feel I get the better of the deal by being friends. The fact of the matter is, they often treat their friends better than their lovers.
I am a woman, a woman on a maddeningly fine edge.
This lament may be finished but my life is not. I’ll keep hoping and working toward an acceptable solution. I’ll keep being present with those I engage, keep acknowledging people for who they are, not for what I want to see them as. I’ll manifest humanity in my interactions and hope for the same from the world.
I know, I know, good luck with that…
In the seventies, I thought nothing of strolling down the beach smoking a joint. I called it hiding in plain sight. Those days are gone. This being said, I am still hiding in plain sight.
I work in a grocery store. Daily, I am asked things like:
“Dude, where’s the beer at”?
“Excuse me, sir, do you have a bathroom”?
In the course of my day, I can hear:
“Tell him thank-you honey”, when I help a child locate their desired treat.
Or told:
“Thanks buddy, this is just what I need”.
I don’t mind being asked questions or being thanked for doing my job, I only mind that the people addressing me aren’t really addressing me; they can’t be addressing me, I’m a woman.
I’m not Transgendered, I’m not a “Separatist Lesbian Feminist, I’m not a Butch Dyke. I am a woman who refuses to insert myself into a reality that limits me; unfortunately, my resistance limits me.
I was raised by a runway model, a woman described by one fan of her racing career as “a cross between Audrey and Katherine Hepburn”. She often wore faded jeans, a watch cap, an old sweatshirt and worn sneakers.
Me, I was grunge before it existed.
I’ve been living in baggy jeans, layered shirts, Pendleton’s and comfortable boots, ball caps, horn rim Ray Bans and funky ski caps since 1974. I wear sports bras, I am not afraid of “uni-boob syndrome”. I really don’t care to follow fashion trends and I flatly refuse to dress to let people know what sex I am; if they can’t tell, it’s their problem.
When I was about fourteen years old, I declared to my family and friends that I was gay. My mother was unsurprised and responded to my declaration with:
“I figured something was up when you didn’t ask for refills of your birth control pills.”
Pragmatism is something we share, my mother and I.
Mom and I fought about my fervent dislike of dresses long before I came out to her. I know that this society needs visual cues but to force myself to dress in complete opposition to my true nature is anathematic to my deepest being. I am here to care for others and myself, I am a steward of humanity, but I will no longer subject myself to the senseless behaviors of individuals who refuse to really see the people with whom they interact on a daily basis.
My partner of fourteen years has no sympathy for my indignation because she was trained to “dress for success”. After my mom stopped fighting with me over clothing, I dressed as I pleased and was comfortable. I am a human woman, not a clothes mannequin for the masses.
I am a woman who looks into peoples’ eyes. I spent too many years as a shamed recipient of childhood sexual abuse and young adult brutal physical and psychological rape; I have had to force myself to be present, I would like the rest of the people around me to join with me in reasonable human behavior.
If the world is in the path of a paradigm shift, why do people resist really seeing each other? Why is it so scary for people to look, really look at each other? Who is the one who started the rumor that gay will infect you if you let it near you; let it live in your neighborhood? It is time for the nonsense to stop, it must stop, now.
My father can’t speak to me because he feels guilt for not being there for me when I was a child; he’s fearful and guilty because I’m gay. He isn’t ashamed of the fact that his only son won’t venture into the states to see his son because he has a child support judgment against him in Costa Rica that is much less expensive than the one against him from Atlanta Georgia.
But I’m gay…
When I came out to my father he said:
“Good thing you said something little girl cause I was just about to hit on your girlfriend”. Did he talk like that to my brother when he brought his girlfriend(s), over for Scott family events?
I don’t think so.
The fact of my homosexuality has lived as a divisive undercurrent in my life since I came out. Society placed me in a category, parts of my family set me aside, my “community”, would have nothing to do with me because I was underage and reason for incarceration.
“You’re fine little sister, but fifteen will get me twenty”.
The world was still too close to seeing gay as a disease, a punishable offense back in 1974. It was not pretty to be gay, there was no LGBTG community to embrace my fellow lesbians and I back then. The shadow of Lyndon Larouche would hang darkly over the Gay community by 1978 and we all lived with the threat of legislation that would threaten our human rights.
We were labeled as lesbian separatists. If a straight mother saw me talking with her daughter, I was subjected to a withering glance and the all too familiar “I’ll kill you if you even think of touching my daughter”, subtext. It was not me that these women needed to protect their daughters from but their male friends and family members. It was my uncle who turned me out when I was eight years old, my neighbor, who wanted to watch me, his teenage neighbor “service”, his wife.
The world now and the world of the seventies are so very much the same; the only thing that has changed is the dialogue. I as a Lesbian am protected in my free speech now by the same rights that were not supported in the seventies; if the laws existed, they weren’t enforced.
In the seventies, I was supposed to jump at any chance to warm up some guys wife while he “enjoyed the show”, possibly “spanking the monkey”. I trust my experiences, the only thing that’s changed is the way we use our words in public. I am not a ravening, howling, rabid dog, maddened by my rampant disease of Homosexuality. I did not then nor do I need now, “the right man”. I’ve been with plenty of men, and I still feel I get the better of the deal by being friends. The fact of the matter is, they often treat their friends better than their lovers.
I am a woman, a woman on a maddeningly fine edge.
This lament may be finished but my life is not. I’ll keep hoping and working toward an acceptable solution. I’ll keep being present with those I engage, keep acknowledging people for who they are, not for what I want to see them as. I’ll manifest humanity in my interactions and hope for the same from the world.
I know, I know, good luck with that…
Introduction to Karen Flittie
Having started this project interviewing the youth, I was interested to see the comparison and contrast between the thoughts of the young and the thoughts of the experienced and older generations. Karen, a woman whose age I do not dare to ask, absolutely took my breath away with the things she had to say.
Though heartbreakingly so, the majority of her initial interview had been lost on the really bad recording device of which I used to do the interview. I was only able to save the first five minutes of what was an hour long discussion. Her piece, though only one, packs an incredible punch. It’s a human right to love who you want to love. How basic and how raw, yet simple perspective.
She is a woman who has deep connections with the world around her. She aches for those who fight the wars, she is conscious of the environment, cares deeply about our healthcare system, and worries about the society we are building for the young. Though a substantial age difference between herself and I, listening to the things she had to say, I began to see a lot of myself in her.
What an amazing gift- the ability to see in your fellow (wo)man, a mere reflection of who you are. My hope for this work is that those that care to read and experience these stories, begin to open themselves to receiving the same gift.
Though heartbreakingly so, the majority of her initial interview had been lost on the really bad recording device of which I used to do the interview. I was only able to save the first five minutes of what was an hour long discussion. Her piece, though only one, packs an incredible punch. It’s a human right to love who you want to love. How basic and how raw, yet simple perspective.
She is a woman who has deep connections with the world around her. She aches for those who fight the wars, she is conscious of the environment, cares deeply about our healthcare system, and worries about the society we are building for the young. Though a substantial age difference between herself and I, listening to the things she had to say, I began to see a lot of myself in her.
What an amazing gift- the ability to see in your fellow (wo)man, a mere reflection of who you are. My hope for this work is that those that care to read and experience these stories, begin to open themselves to receiving the same gift.
Introduction To Jewel
What a wonderful way to start off this project. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure just how much she would have to say regarding the issue of Proposition 8. She, having just graduated from the local high school (that I attended myself), didn’t seem like someone that would have any experience with the LGBTQ community. What’s interesting, is, she didn’t think she had any experience with the topic until she began answering my questions.
Being the young girl that she is, after the interview, she mentioned to me how interesting it is to realize that she actually had opinions of her own that were separate from the way she has been brought up. Her brown eyes have seen more than I think she was even aware.
Her pieces in this collection of monologues helped me to form questions for the interviews that came after. She needed a bit more prodding than others, but the moment she realized what it was I was looking for as the interviewer/ researcher, she was incredibly generous with the stories she had to tell.
She offered me such great groundwork for this piece of literature that I find so important to our community, local as well as state wide. Seeing this issue through the eyes of the youth, who too often get looked over, passed by, and dismissed, was essential. It is through the youth, after all, that shows us as a society, what we are passing down from our traditions, our culture, and our public policy.
Being the young girl that she is, after the interview, she mentioned to me how interesting it is to realize that she actually had opinions of her own that were separate from the way she has been brought up. Her brown eyes have seen more than I think she was even aware.
Her pieces in this collection of monologues helped me to form questions for the interviews that came after. She needed a bit more prodding than others, but the moment she realized what it was I was looking for as the interviewer/ researcher, she was incredibly generous with the stories she had to tell.
She offered me such great groundwork for this piece of literature that I find so important to our community, local as well as state wide. Seeing this issue through the eyes of the youth, who too often get looked over, passed by, and dismissed, was essential. It is through the youth, after all, that shows us as a society, what we are passing down from our traditions, our culture, and our public policy.
A Writer's Reflection
In the year 2008, I received my Bachelor’s Degree in Human Communications from California State University, Monterey Bay. The curriculum was full of Philosophy, History, and Literature, but my area of concentration lay in the writing aspect of communication. Creative Writing not only allowed me to stray from the hum drum task of writing research papers, but it also allowed me to express in any way I saw fit, the things I learned in my professor taught, florescent lit classrooms as well as the class of life.
The Creative Writing major encouraged students to take a Social Action angle with their writing, using poetry and short stories to share their experiences with injustice.
Being a woman of color, I am no stranger to injustice. I have dealt with issues of racism and sexism, prejudices of every nature. From the time I was a teenager, I have always felt a connection to the Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) community, working, going to school, and living in the San Francisco East Bay Area, I have come to see them as family.
April 13, 2005- Day of Silence. Please understand my reasons
For not speaking today. I am participating in the Day of Silence, a
National youth movement protesting the silence faced by lesbian,
Gay, bisexual, transgender people and their allies. My deliberate
Silence echoes that silence, which is caused by harassment, prejudice,
And discrimination. I believe that ending the silence is the first
Step toward fighting these injustices. Think about the voices
You are not hearing today. What are you going to do to end the
Silence?
Word for word, that was written on a 3 x 5 index card that I carried around with me to all of my classes that day. I had a piece of duct tape covering my mouth for eight hours. I was able to take the tape off for my last class of the day- Cooperative Argumentation, in which the professor felt it was necessary to open the floor to discuss the gay community and the idea of homophobia. The professor wanted from us, an explanation as to why we as a society can react violently towards the LGBTQ community. I made the mistake in letting a ditzy sorority girl voice her thoughtless two cents.
“Homophobia is a lot like my fear of cockroaches. When I see one, I want to kill it,”
What stopped me from getting out of my seat and putting my hands around her throat, I have no idea. In a strange way, allowing her to say what she did only illustrated to me just how much work needed to go into educating those around me regarding gay issues. If people in higher education felt it was completely and totally appropriate to compare homosexuals to cockroaches, we were in deep, deep trouble. When I say we, I am not referring solely to the gay community, I am referring to all of us.
My last year at CSUMB, I had a rather unique living situation that not many can say they share. In a moderately sized, two bed, one bath apartment on campus, I lived with two trans-men, a bisexual, and an ‘experimental’ young man, open to different things. Had I not the ability to see through a surface to the people that lurked inside, the sight of two (in all other physical ways) men walking around at the end of the day with chests might have urked me. Experiencing birthdays, graduations, and even deaths with each other when our own families were sometimes too far away, made all of our differences seem irrelevant. We all searched for love in any and all ways humanly possible; we all suffered from loneliness in one way or another. Though we identified differently when it came to sexual orientation, it was as relevant to each of us as being of different nationalities.
Having only been a citizen of the United States for less than a decade, voting was not a practice that I ever thought to be too important to me. I didn’t really become politically active until I started studying in Monterey. I had my thoughts surrounding the war in Iraq and the preceding events of 9/11, but maybe I had grown a bit too cynical to believe that any amount of protest would end a war that no one could explain.
When the 2008 elections came, I had graduated and was living in the city of San Francisco, waiting for the end of the Bush administration that I felt would only do good for our country. Yet, still, the idea of voting was not something I decided to exercise my right to do. It has always felt to me as though my vote would not make a bit of difference. Whoever had the money and the power was going to get their way regardless of whether or not I wanted them to. So, I sat back and watched as our country voted for our first Black president, something that offered so much promise for our American society.
However, I also sat back and watched as the state of California, a state that I have come to call home and have developed such great pride in, pass Proposition 8, banning same sex marriage. What? California, home of cities like San Francisco, Berkeley, and Los Angeles was not going to allow couples to get married simply because of what’s between two people’s legs? California, a state known to burn down its own cities in protest was going to regulate blatant discrimination? Our country, in a state of war where casualties will rise as long as it continues, can still find a way to wage war on love? I was, for the first time, overcome with a tremendous amount of guilt over not casting my vote. In my grief and sympathy for my fellow man, I had to do something. Though helplessness took over me as I watched the Twin Towers fall to rubble on the streets of New York City, with a degree in Creative Writing and Social Action, I felt a bit more armed and ready to take on my first act of political dissent.
Having taken with me the experience of doing creative academic work that involved interviewing, transcribing, and editing a project that surrounded the reversal of Roe v Wade, I decided to embark on a journey to understand the chaos that affects my fellow Californians. One of the things that the Human Communications department taught me is that in order to create change, one must be able to step back from themselves in order to see the entire picture. My Senior Capstone that surrounded Roe v Wade, showed me that the perspective that I might have walked into it with, may not be the ones I leave it with.
The Creative Writing major encouraged students to take a Social Action angle with their writing, using poetry and short stories to share their experiences with injustice.
Being a woman of color, I am no stranger to injustice. I have dealt with issues of racism and sexism, prejudices of every nature. From the time I was a teenager, I have always felt a connection to the Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ) community, working, going to school, and living in the San Francisco East Bay Area, I have come to see them as family.
April 13, 2005- Day of Silence. Please understand my reasons
For not speaking today. I am participating in the Day of Silence, a
National youth movement protesting the silence faced by lesbian,
Gay, bisexual, transgender people and their allies. My deliberate
Silence echoes that silence, which is caused by harassment, prejudice,
And discrimination. I believe that ending the silence is the first
Step toward fighting these injustices. Think about the voices
You are not hearing today. What are you going to do to end the
Silence?
Word for word, that was written on a 3 x 5 index card that I carried around with me to all of my classes that day. I had a piece of duct tape covering my mouth for eight hours. I was able to take the tape off for my last class of the day- Cooperative Argumentation, in which the professor felt it was necessary to open the floor to discuss the gay community and the idea of homophobia. The professor wanted from us, an explanation as to why we as a society can react violently towards the LGBTQ community. I made the mistake in letting a ditzy sorority girl voice her thoughtless two cents.
“Homophobia is a lot like my fear of cockroaches. When I see one, I want to kill it,”
What stopped me from getting out of my seat and putting my hands around her throat, I have no idea. In a strange way, allowing her to say what she did only illustrated to me just how much work needed to go into educating those around me regarding gay issues. If people in higher education felt it was completely and totally appropriate to compare homosexuals to cockroaches, we were in deep, deep trouble. When I say we, I am not referring solely to the gay community, I am referring to all of us.
My last year at CSUMB, I had a rather unique living situation that not many can say they share. In a moderately sized, two bed, one bath apartment on campus, I lived with two trans-men, a bisexual, and an ‘experimental’ young man, open to different things. Had I not the ability to see through a surface to the people that lurked inside, the sight of two (in all other physical ways) men walking around at the end of the day with chests might have urked me. Experiencing birthdays, graduations, and even deaths with each other when our own families were sometimes too far away, made all of our differences seem irrelevant. We all searched for love in any and all ways humanly possible; we all suffered from loneliness in one way or another. Though we identified differently when it came to sexual orientation, it was as relevant to each of us as being of different nationalities.
Having only been a citizen of the United States for less than a decade, voting was not a practice that I ever thought to be too important to me. I didn’t really become politically active until I started studying in Monterey. I had my thoughts surrounding the war in Iraq and the preceding events of 9/11, but maybe I had grown a bit too cynical to believe that any amount of protest would end a war that no one could explain.
When the 2008 elections came, I had graduated and was living in the city of San Francisco, waiting for the end of the Bush administration that I felt would only do good for our country. Yet, still, the idea of voting was not something I decided to exercise my right to do. It has always felt to me as though my vote would not make a bit of difference. Whoever had the money and the power was going to get their way regardless of whether or not I wanted them to. So, I sat back and watched as our country voted for our first Black president, something that offered so much promise for our American society.
However, I also sat back and watched as the state of California, a state that I have come to call home and have developed such great pride in, pass Proposition 8, banning same sex marriage. What? California, home of cities like San Francisco, Berkeley, and Los Angeles was not going to allow couples to get married simply because of what’s between two people’s legs? California, a state known to burn down its own cities in protest was going to regulate blatant discrimination? Our country, in a state of war where casualties will rise as long as it continues, can still find a way to wage war on love? I was, for the first time, overcome with a tremendous amount of guilt over not casting my vote. In my grief and sympathy for my fellow man, I had to do something. Though helplessness took over me as I watched the Twin Towers fall to rubble on the streets of New York City, with a degree in Creative Writing and Social Action, I felt a bit more armed and ready to take on my first act of political dissent.
Having taken with me the experience of doing creative academic work that involved interviewing, transcribing, and editing a project that surrounded the reversal of Roe v Wade, I decided to embark on a journey to understand the chaos that affects my fellow Californians. One of the things that the Human Communications department taught me is that in order to create change, one must be able to step back from themselves in order to see the entire picture. My Senior Capstone that surrounded Roe v Wade, showed me that the perspective that I might have walked into it with, may not be the ones I leave it with.
Acknowledgements:
First and foremost, it is only through the stories of the people willing to share them that this project was even possible. Thank you, Jewel, Karen, Therese, Ryan, Sky, Mary, and Jake for sharing your stories so openly and proudly.
Thank You, Dr. Debian Marty, someone whose Communications classes taught me the skills needed to do a project where I would without a doubt, run into conflicting points of view. Active listening and ethical communication helped everyone I worked with feel comfortable talking honestly with me.
Debra Busman, what an amazing writing coach you were throughout my Bachelor’s program. Edit. Edit. Edit. Just when you think it’s good enough- edit again. I hope this independent writing work makes you proud to be the awesome professor you are.
David Reichard, you taught me so much about the history of the LGBTQ community. You helped to encourage this type of writing with getting me through the last important piece, and you too, I hope to make you proud with what you read.
Thank You to Karen Flittie for providing a great book as means of research.
Thank You, Dr. Debian Marty, someone whose Communications classes taught me the skills needed to do a project where I would without a doubt, run into conflicting points of view. Active listening and ethical communication helped everyone I worked with feel comfortable talking honestly with me.
Debra Busman, what an amazing writing coach you were throughout my Bachelor’s program. Edit. Edit. Edit. Just when you think it’s good enough- edit again. I hope this independent writing work makes you proud to be the awesome professor you are.
David Reichard, you taught me so much about the history of the LGBTQ community. You helped to encourage this type of writing with getting me through the last important piece, and you too, I hope to make you proud with what you read.
Thank You to Karen Flittie for providing a great book as means of research.
Dedications:
Exclusivity is the root of all of our human maladies.
It allows us not only to separate from others
But also to oppress them. Racism, sexism, homophobia,
Slavery, all forms of hatred and bigotry, stem
From the notion that “I am separate from you- by
Virtue of skin color, ethnicity, behavior, belief…”
- Sharif Abdullah, Creating a World that Works for All
To all my fellow Californians; to those who suffer from the legal confusion and instability of your love-based relationships. May this piece of work help express the enormous amount of support for you and your families.
To all my fellow Californians; to those that value their traditions that are rooted in their faith, education, and experience that may be contrary to the idea of civil liberties for all their fellow human. May this piece of work offer you an alternative look at a community that wants the freedom to define their own sense of family and partnership.
To the families of the participants of this project- to those that agree, to those that do not, let this work be a testament to the bravery of your loved ones that chose to share their stories with me.
It allows us not only to separate from others
But also to oppress them. Racism, sexism, homophobia,
Slavery, all forms of hatred and bigotry, stem
From the notion that “I am separate from you- by
Virtue of skin color, ethnicity, behavior, belief…”
- Sharif Abdullah, Creating a World that Works for All
To all my fellow Californians; to those who suffer from the legal confusion and instability of your love-based relationships. May this piece of work help express the enormous amount of support for you and your families.
To all my fellow Californians; to those that value their traditions that are rooted in their faith, education, and experience that may be contrary to the idea of civil liberties for all their fellow human. May this piece of work offer you an alternative look at a community that wants the freedom to define their own sense of family and partnership.
To the families of the participants of this project- to those that agree, to those that do not, let this work be a testament to the bravery of your loved ones that chose to share their stories with me.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Maria-Patricia: Introduction to an Activist
Hello, and Welcome to my first ever blog. I am a huge Facebook fanatic and while I was posting things, I came across this blogging thingy.
I am a writer and have been for over 20 years. I went to school at Cal State University, Monterey Bay where I recieved a Bachelor's Degree in Human Communications: Creative Writing. It was the first time I had ever started to do political/ journalism type writing for Social Action and Change. One of the reasons that I started this blog is to publish the types of writing I've been doing involving Proposition 8. Updated, the proposition was deemed a violation of human rights, (success!!!!!) but I did this journalistic work to find out how my fellow Californians felt about it. Sure, my bias is that Proposition 8 is a way of institutionalizing the disregard for the rights of one of the most rapidly growing populations in the country. However, throughout my schooling, I've found that in the interest of fighting for any given cause, most people tend to not take the other side into consideration. It is probably the most unfortunate natures of political activism. Know what you're fighting against.
I have compiled a series of dramatic monologues taken from interviews with my California community. I interviewed people, transcribed the interviews, and edited them down to make monologues that pack an emotional punch. Whether you're someone who will sympathize with Therese or agree with Jake, I am hoping that these pieces that I have bled, sweat, and cried over to get edited, will effect you.
Please enjoy.
I am a writer and have been for over 20 years. I went to school at Cal State University, Monterey Bay where I recieved a Bachelor's Degree in Human Communications: Creative Writing. It was the first time I had ever started to do political/ journalism type writing for Social Action and Change. One of the reasons that I started this blog is to publish the types of writing I've been doing involving Proposition 8. Updated, the proposition was deemed a violation of human rights, (success!!!!!) but I did this journalistic work to find out how my fellow Californians felt about it. Sure, my bias is that Proposition 8 is a way of institutionalizing the disregard for the rights of one of the most rapidly growing populations in the country. However, throughout my schooling, I've found that in the interest of fighting for any given cause, most people tend to not take the other side into consideration. It is probably the most unfortunate natures of political activism. Know what you're fighting against.
I have compiled a series of dramatic monologues taken from interviews with my California community. I interviewed people, transcribed the interviews, and edited them down to make monologues that pack an emotional punch. Whether you're someone who will sympathize with Therese or agree with Jake, I am hoping that these pieces that I have bled, sweat, and cried over to get edited, will effect you.
Please enjoy.
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