Phambiguosly Gay Duo

Oh, y'all already know what this blog is about, but I will entertain you until the time is right. It's been a while my friends. Some very interesting people have been asking about the whereabouts of my next blog post. I have no good reason. Summer happened. I had writer's block, so I avoided the topic.

 The other night, I was having a beer with my good friend Tucker when I happened upon my summer '08 American History 1865-Present professor at the Draught House. Carl took this class with me so he should remember. This man, Professor Haney, was possibly the best college professor during my tenure at the University of Texas. It wasn't that he had any unique way of teaching history (as my administrators at work would believe is the only way to reach young minds), it was that he had passion. He didn't have any technologically advanced way of feeding us information. He actually just typed notes out on Microsoft Word. It was probably the Office 95 version too! He LOVED what he did. He LOVED explaining to us the implications of the film industry on race relations during the early 1900's. He LOVED explaining to us the upshot of the Cuban Missile Crisis on the advertising agencies of the time. He LOVED to remind us that these types of events were happening today. He LOVED to remind us that our voices sang the same song of change as those in our textbooks. This man did not simply teach me about history, he breathed it into my lungs and my heart. He did this in the same way that Mrs. Green did in AP US History in high school. I majored in biochemistry. Throughout my college career, I took a 100+ hours of science courses. Every once in a while, I was allowed to enrich my knowledge of life with a couple history lessons, lessons that I valued beyond anything I ever learned in organic chemistry. To put it simply, I FUCKING loved this class. As an educator, it meant the world to me to be able to thank him for his service.

 At the end of summer after graduating, I was without employment. I scoured the world for work. Eventually, I happened upon a teaching assistant position at the university. The position required that I met a certain grade point average. This all depended on what I made on my summer courses which were US History and Human Sexuality. I needed an A in both. Unfortunately, I made a high B in each course, so I emailed the professors about my plight and provided reasons on why I should get a higher grade. I knew I didn't deserve shit in Human sex. I missed a stupid journal entry (write about feelings) that brought my grade way down. I think I did it on purpose because I thought I would get an A regardless. The TA could see this so she said it was a fucking "learning experience" to always do the best you can do. FUCK HER. I'm a privileged college student who has never worked a day in his life. What the fuck do I know about responsibility and doing the best I can do? US History professor Haney was a bit more understanding of my situation. He knew that I came in everyday, sat at the front of class everyday, and listened intently to his humble lectures. He acknowledged that I did in fact master the objectives he set for the course and boosted my grade to an A. Even though I did not get the position I had wanted due to the stupid human sex TA, I am forever in debted to Professor Haney's ability to validate my accomplishments.

 Validation. This concept has stuck with me ever since Camp. If any of you know me personally, you know that Camp means more to me than words can express. I'm already pregz with emo just thinking about it. During the summer of 2002, I was asked by my English teacher Mrs. Thomas to attend Camp Anytown. At first, I was skeptical because I noticed that she only asked the "minorities" to attend. I was reluctant to attend some cumbahyah camp and express my feelings and cry and paint ponies and rainbows and blah blah blah. Eventually, I agreed to go, and my friend Nader and I were on a bus off to some woods. When we arrived to the camp grounds, the staff was pounding on the bus, cheering for our arrival, and celebrating our names. I turned to Nader, 'Oh gawd, it's gonna be like that.' To be honest, I can't remember exactly what changed my mind. I just know that it did. This place, this magical place, was a microcosm of solace where I could just exist without any expectation placed upon me. I was allowed to just be me. 

Growing up in the suburbs was not difficult. Many of the people I know and love have experienced so much strife and pain during their upbringing that I am ashamed of telling my lackluster story. I am the son of a Vietnamese family from the middle class. I went to a private school during my early years, and then I attended an exemplary middle school and high school. We stuck to our comfort zones. I never bothered anyone else, and nobody bothered me. And then I went to camp. I could finally see the injustice of this lifestyle. I was completely unaware of struggle. I was completely unaware of discrimination. I was completely unaware of these unspoken divisions in my community. I always felt like I didn't really belong. After I went to camp, I realized why that was. I didn't fit in because I could not accept life the way it was. I could not accept the fact that a person was treated differently than me solely because he came from a less affluent neighborhood than mine. I can still remember the day in gym class when one of my classmates was violently assaulted in the locker room because he was "poor" and could not afford new clothes. His blood stained the walls. And you know what I did when this happened? I DIDN'T DO SHIT! I was afraid. I was a coward. I didn't speak out against injustice. I was nothing.

 When I went to camp, I was a broken child. I only believed in the power of war. I only saw the effects of hate. I did not believe that humanity was good. I hated us. When I went to camp, Cinto, one of my many mentors, told me that I was good. He told me that despite our different life experiences, we were the same. He told me that despite all of the things that separated us, we were brothers. I doubt he even remembers little 16 year old Johnny. Our year was easy to forget. But I remembered him. I remembered Q. I remembered Chuck. I remembered everyone. I could not let this feeling go. Our class wasn't the best of classes. Honestly, the only person I keep in contact with is Nader, but I think we've kept the spirit alive. Our experience was validated.

 Validation. Cinto introduced me to this word for the first time in a meaningful way. When he went to camp many years ago as a teenager, he felt validation as a voice for the first time from someone outside his community, from someone outside his race. This summer, I finally understood the word. This summer, President Obama announced to the world that we would give the DREAMers a shot at a fair life. This happened on the last day of camp. This happened after a group of our young people professed that they were undocumented. This happened after those same individuals were embraced by our community. This happened after those individuals were VALIDATED by their peers. They found validation. I found validation for what it is I do. What I do is very little in comparison to my other mentors, Miguel, Claudia, Cinto, Adena. What I do has no place in the realm of achievement as my mentors. These people are angels on earth. Their fight, which is essentially our fight, is far from over. Please educate yourselves on this issue, this revolution, that affects each of us on a human level. http://www.dreamactivist.org/

 I can't believe I even exist in the same organization as these great people. I am so very humbled. Y'all know me. I am conceited as shit. When I am in the presence of camp staff, however, I am but a whisper. What we do at camp, no matter how obscurely I try to explain it, is not mystical. We simply offer a place for our youth to be themselves. We simply let people love the way they were meant to love. It's about CommUNITY. As I have said before, the dalai lama spends his whole life in meditation in order to make his heart as big as an ocean. Because when you drop a bit of your pain into it, that pain is absorbed. The heart of our community is an ocean. It is time to absorb the pain of the world, and let the healing begin.

 This leads me to my not so happy part of my blog. This whole chick-fil-a nonsense has gotten me a bit riled up. I agree whole-heartedly with J-Stew's and L-Carver's assessment of the debacle. GAY MARRIAGE IS HAPPENING. It doesn't matter how hard you protest against it. It doesn't matter how many chicken sandwiches you eat in opposition to it. IT's GONNA HAPPEN! Just like integration happened, just like suffrage happened, just like slavery ended, just like the first black president happened, just like AMERICA HAPPENED! Nothing you do will be able to stand against it. You will fail. Just like the Nazi's, just like the Confederacy, just like the KKK, just like Saddam, just like Bin Laden. You will LOSE. It is you, who supports hate. Many people are confused about why this argument about chicken is so prevalent today. The reason is because it NEEDS to happen. People NEED to be angry. People were angry because of the Jena 6. People were angry because of Matthew Shepard. People got angry about Trayvon. People got angry because of Kony. People were angry because of Katrina. PEOPLE NEED TO BE ANGRY! THIS IS INJUSTICE. THIS NEEDS TO BE AT THE FOREFRONT OF DEBATE. WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE ECONOMY AND JOB CREATION WHEN PEOPLE ARE BEING TREATED LIKE SHIT FOR NO OTHER REASON THAN THE FACT THAT THEY ARE DIFFERENT?! WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT TAX CUTS WHEN A PERSON IS UNJUSTLY IMPRISONED FOR HAVING A SPECIFIC SKIN COLOR? WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT THE FUCKING ELECTION WHEN MY FRIENDS ARE BEING DEPORTED SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY WANT TO WORK OR GO TO SCHOOL?! THIS NEEDS TO BE DISCUSSED. THIS NEEDS TO BE RESOLVED.

This leads me to a single conclusion. Because I am not like many of you, I do not hold myself to the same standards. I do not care if I am a hypocrite. Trying not to be one is like trying not to be human. I do not agree to disagree. I have no tolerance for intolerance nor do I pretend that my ultimate goal is to allow you to have your freedom of speech because I have mine. My goals, my hopes, my dreams for this country, for this world, are based on the principles of goodness, of compassion, of humanity. I am not religious, therefore, I do not have to forgive. YOU WILL LOSE. EQUALITY IS HAPPENING WITH OR WITHOUT YOU. A friend of mine tried to explain to me that although she embraced those who have committed the sin of homosexuality, they had no place in God's kingdom. This is clearly ____ man's burden if I e'er did hear it. I ain't got time for that shit. Tolerance is not enough. Acceptance is not enough. Only when all men are created and treated as equal will it be good enough. Good always prevails over evil. This is not a threat, but a promise. If I sound judgmental, it is because I choose to be. You will find no quarter here. Say goodbye to your so called values. This is a declaration of love.