PART ONE: SEVENTEEN
When I came out 14 years ago, it was an in-between time- the year 2000, where the gay rights fight had been ferociously battled before me, but where there was still much to be done. Matthew Shepard’s murder was front-page news, and Ellen came out, and lost her career. Bush had taken over, but so had Will & Grace. I feel grateful to have grown up in the in-between age that I did, where visibility meant something, where there was a fight to be had, but where the vision of the future was something bright and possible.
I personally had been so sheltered that I didn’t even really know what gay was, and was naïve enough to be excited out loud in front of my friends when I thought other girls were beautiful, and and when I spoke of my intention to live with a lady schoolteacher one day. (And of, let’s face it, my ongoing dreams about Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. What can I say? I’m an oversharer and a walking dyke cliché.) It took a friend pointing out to me “You know you’re gay, right?” that I realized what I was thinking totally wasn’t what everyone else was thinking. (In fact: did you know other girls were thinking about penises??? Talk about super gross! Ugh.) We didn’t have cable, or the internet at home, yet, and I didn’t follow the news. I was mostly concerned about the AP English exam and whether or not hemp necklaces were cool. (They totally were.)
So, the word 'gay' was mine, was finally a label I could throw myself into, and it felt like the first time I was claiming myself. The more I rolled it around in my brainparts, the more I knew it was a perfect fit for me. When I started to furtively go to the teeny tiny Gay and Lesbian section at the local Barnes and Noble, like a tiptoeing hunter sneaking up on a wabbit, I was passionately excited. I found love stories about women, and sex stories, and manifestos by Michelangelo Signorile, and Leslie Feinberg stretching out a warm, leathery, butch hand to hold. My heart exploded with possibility, and I was the happiest I had ever been.
For most of my classmates, my gayness was something interesting and new about me, and people went out of their way to say hi, and to smile. I was infinitely more comfortable in my body, as though I had stopped holding years of breath and I could let my blood have its oxygen back. I was free.
When I think back on the year 2000, it occurs to me how revolutionary our generation was- when I came out, it was interesting, a new aspect to a person already known, a kind of “Oh, that makes sense! Yeah, you're wicked gay, I see that now.” Kids asked questions, and there was a power holding me up, as though we knew our parents might not agree, but what did they know anyway? I mean, I brought a cute straight girl to the prom, and students clapped when we walked in! (Wait! Epiphany!: I thrive on applause, and on straight girls. Is this moment my root? Holy shit. I’m tucking that away to think about later.)
I paint this picture too rosy, of course. At home, my family life was ripped apart when I came out, and eventually I was told not to come back. …Not to come back? There is a special kind of trauma that steeps in the combination of the elation in finding yourself and the grief over losing your family because you share it out loud. I stayed with friends' families and eventually moved into a co-worker’s mom’s finished basement to close out my senior year. I think I literally would have died if school wasn’t a haven where I could just be myself and not have to worry about what people thought. There, I was the funny kid who happened to be gay. At home, my family wondered where their daughter had gone, and I screamed inside “I’m right here!”
Now, through time and therapy and reflection, I am happily reunited with my family, and they are crazy about my (formerly straight)….( OH MY GOD SEE WHAT I MEAN??) girlfriend. But man… those wounds cover in some thick milky scars that shine bright like a diamond sometimes. You never get over something like that. (You become a comedian!)
I tell you all this because I often forget that I am gay- it is a part of me, same as my weird white chicken legs and increasingly greying hair. I claim myself first as a comedian, and as a nice person/reformed dickhead, and as someone who loves cheese probably too much. But my gayness is important to me, is something I am proud to be and have fought to be. I’m pretty stocked to be gay. I mean, hello! I get to smooch women! Totally thrilling. And, I suppose I only say I forget I’m gay really because I am so lucky to live my life surrounded by people who don’t really give a fuck if I’m gay or not. They mostly care if I can keep my set to 7 minutes or regularly update my stupid Twitter account. (@petey_gibson!!!!!!!! Omg lol whut)
So, let’s get down to what I really sat down to write, shall we?
I know, reading more than 3 minutes is exhausting. Are you ok? Go get some water or something. I’ll wait.
PART TWO: THIRTYONE
Last night, the Grammys took place 15 minutes from my house, and a straight-up revolutionary action took place. Macklemore and Ryan Lewis won a Grammy for a song called Same Love, and when they performed it, Queen Latifah came out (god, I wish out of the closet, but I’ll take those metaphorical doors) and started a killer wedding speech, as the aisles at the Staples Center flooded with couples in wedding gear about to exchange vows- gay and straight alike. And she married them right then and there, in the middle of the goddamn Grammys.
What’s that you say? Let me reiterate this point- there was an equal rights takeover in the middle of a set at Music’s Biggest Night. Two straight white dudes, a gorgeous curvy lesbian, a [albeit not publicly out but super gay we all know it] black woman and the goddamn Queen Madge herself (in a suit!) stood on one of the most public stages in the world and said “FUCK THAT. This is normal. This is awesome. We are celebrating. And if you’re not on board, you’re on the wrong side”.
There has been a lot of flack for this song, and already for last night’s show, but it’s not from boring old republicans shaking their canes at the TV (I mean, maybe it is, but are they really watching the Grammys anyway?) Shockingly, there has been flack from the gay community. MY community!
When Same Love first hit the airwaves, I sat down and wept. I have wept every time I have heard it, actually. I feel the fibers inside me creak with old grief I have buried. I feel hope. I feel like I am being seen, like my inside kid screaming “I’m right here!” has been given a voice. This song plays inside houses and spills onto the streets through open windows. It dances out of cars. Kids know the words and sing along. This new generation will carry these lyrics with them, the way that my generation knows, definitively, that we don’t want no scrubs. Ever.
Same Love hit Number 1 on the charts, and it came from hip hop. Macklemore & Ryan Lewis independently made an album and released- at the beginning of their careers- a song about gay rights and marriage equality. And people are listening to it. I mean, this is a big deal. It is revolutionary. Did I use that word already?
Guys, I know he’s straight, and white. When I came out, my best allies were straight, and they held the door for me, and stood up for me, and became a solid boundary between my thoughts and my grief, so I couldn’t get to the other side and drown in it. THAT IS WHAT ALLIES ARE! And allies of all stripes are an amazing gift for all struggles. It is what makes the difference, and what builds the bridge. It is, in part, what so much history is made of. So, thank you straight people. Tip of the hat to you.
I think, personally, that you can only do what you can do in this life, and to go out of your way to help others thrive, especially when those people aren't being given a platform, is a beautiful thing. Macklemore has acknowledged his white privilege many times, and used his writing and his stages to call out homophobia in his communities. He has called out record labels and repeatedly talked about producing his album independently. He can't NOT be white or straight- as they say, baby, he was born that way. So, for me, it doesn't make sense when people are angry because they want to see a gay person saying these things, or a person of color... the truth is someone is saying them, and they’re saying them very loudly and articulately and with eye contact.
I shared my personal story because I believe in the power of the personal story. I believe the world has been changed, that history was made, when Macklemore shared his story. I am proud to have allies who practice what they preach. I am proud that, when given their first set at the Grammys- where they could have sexy dancers or strobe lights or whatever spectacle they wanted- that this is what Macklemore & Ryan Lewis chose. It is fucking rad. And it is 2014, baby. Get used to it.
When I came out 14 years ago, it was an in-between time- the year 2000, where the gay rights fight had been ferociously battled before me, but where there was still much to be done. Matthew Shepard’s murder was front-page news, and Ellen came out, and lost her career. Bush had taken over, but so had Will & Grace. I feel grateful to have grown up in the in-between age that I did, where visibility meant something, where there was a fight to be had, but where the vision of the future was something bright and possible.
I personally had been so sheltered that I didn’t even really know what gay was, and was naïve enough to be excited out loud in front of my friends when I thought other girls were beautiful, and and when I spoke of my intention to live with a lady schoolteacher one day. (And of, let’s face it, my ongoing dreams about Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman. What can I say? I’m an oversharer and a walking dyke cliché.) It took a friend pointing out to me “You know you’re gay, right?” that I realized what I was thinking totally wasn’t what everyone else was thinking. (In fact: did you know other girls were thinking about penises??? Talk about super gross! Ugh.) We didn’t have cable, or the internet at home, yet, and I didn’t follow the news. I was mostly concerned about the AP English exam and whether or not hemp necklaces were cool. (They totally were.)
So, the word 'gay' was mine, was finally a label I could throw myself into, and it felt like the first time I was claiming myself. The more I rolled it around in my brainparts, the more I knew it was a perfect fit for me. When I started to furtively go to the teeny tiny Gay and Lesbian section at the local Barnes and Noble, like a tiptoeing hunter sneaking up on a wabbit, I was passionately excited. I found love stories about women, and sex stories, and manifestos by Michelangelo Signorile, and Leslie Feinberg stretching out a warm, leathery, butch hand to hold. My heart exploded with possibility, and I was the happiest I had ever been.
For most of my classmates, my gayness was something interesting and new about me, and people went out of their way to say hi, and to smile. I was infinitely more comfortable in my body, as though I had stopped holding years of breath and I could let my blood have its oxygen back. I was free.
When I think back on the year 2000, it occurs to me how revolutionary our generation was- when I came out, it was interesting, a new aspect to a person already known, a kind of “Oh, that makes sense! Yeah, you're wicked gay, I see that now.” Kids asked questions, and there was a power holding me up, as though we knew our parents might not agree, but what did they know anyway? I mean, I brought a cute straight girl to the prom, and students clapped when we walked in! (Wait! Epiphany!: I thrive on applause, and on straight girls. Is this moment my root? Holy shit. I’m tucking that away to think about later.)
I paint this picture too rosy, of course. At home, my family life was ripped apart when I came out, and eventually I was told not to come back. …Not to come back? There is a special kind of trauma that steeps in the combination of the elation in finding yourself and the grief over losing your family because you share it out loud. I stayed with friends' families and eventually moved into a co-worker’s mom’s finished basement to close out my senior year. I think I literally would have died if school wasn’t a haven where I could just be myself and not have to worry about what people thought. There, I was the funny kid who happened to be gay. At home, my family wondered where their daughter had gone, and I screamed inside “I’m right here!”
Now, through time and therapy and reflection, I am happily reunited with my family, and they are crazy about my (formerly straight)….( OH MY GOD SEE WHAT I MEAN??) girlfriend. But man… those wounds cover in some thick milky scars that shine bright like a diamond sometimes. You never get over something like that. (You become a comedian!)
I tell you all this because I often forget that I am gay- it is a part of me, same as my weird white chicken legs and increasingly greying hair. I claim myself first as a comedian, and as a nice person/reformed dickhead, and as someone who loves cheese probably too much. But my gayness is important to me, is something I am proud to be and have fought to be. I’m pretty stocked to be gay. I mean, hello! I get to smooch women! Totally thrilling. And, I suppose I only say I forget I’m gay really because I am so lucky to live my life surrounded by people who don’t really give a fuck if I’m gay or not. They mostly care if I can keep my set to 7 minutes or regularly update my stupid Twitter account. (@petey_gibson!!!!!!!! Omg lol whut)
So, let’s get down to what I really sat down to write, shall we?
I know, reading more than 3 minutes is exhausting. Are you ok? Go get some water or something. I’ll wait.
PART TWO: THIRTYONE
Last night, the Grammys took place 15 minutes from my house, and a straight-up revolutionary action took place. Macklemore and Ryan Lewis won a Grammy for a song called Same Love, and when they performed it, Queen Latifah came out (god, I wish out of the closet, but I’ll take those metaphorical doors) and started a killer wedding speech, as the aisles at the Staples Center flooded with couples in wedding gear about to exchange vows- gay and straight alike. And she married them right then and there, in the middle of the goddamn Grammys.
What’s that you say? Let me reiterate this point- there was an equal rights takeover in the middle of a set at Music’s Biggest Night. Two straight white dudes, a gorgeous curvy lesbian, a [albeit not publicly out but super gay we all know it] black woman and the goddamn Queen Madge herself (in a suit!) stood on one of the most public stages in the world and said “FUCK THAT. This is normal. This is awesome. We are celebrating. And if you’re not on board, you’re on the wrong side”.
There has been a lot of flack for this song, and already for last night’s show, but it’s not from boring old republicans shaking their canes at the TV (I mean, maybe it is, but are they really watching the Grammys anyway?) Shockingly, there has been flack from the gay community. MY community!
When Same Love first hit the airwaves, I sat down and wept. I have wept every time I have heard it, actually. I feel the fibers inside me creak with old grief I have buried. I feel hope. I feel like I am being seen, like my inside kid screaming “I’m right here!” has been given a voice. This song plays inside houses and spills onto the streets through open windows. It dances out of cars. Kids know the words and sing along. This new generation will carry these lyrics with them, the way that my generation knows, definitively, that we don’t want no scrubs. Ever.
Same Love hit Number 1 on the charts, and it came from hip hop. Macklemore & Ryan Lewis independently made an album and released- at the beginning of their careers- a song about gay rights and marriage equality. And people are listening to it. I mean, this is a big deal. It is revolutionary. Did I use that word already?
Guys, I know he’s straight, and white. When I came out, my best allies were straight, and they held the door for me, and stood up for me, and became a solid boundary between my thoughts and my grief, so I couldn’t get to the other side and drown in it. THAT IS WHAT ALLIES ARE! And allies of all stripes are an amazing gift for all struggles. It is what makes the difference, and what builds the bridge. It is, in part, what so much history is made of. So, thank you straight people. Tip of the hat to you.
I think, personally, that you can only do what you can do in this life, and to go out of your way to help others thrive, especially when those people aren't being given a platform, is a beautiful thing. Macklemore has acknowledged his white privilege many times, and used his writing and his stages to call out homophobia in his communities. He has called out record labels and repeatedly talked about producing his album independently. He can't NOT be white or straight- as they say, baby, he was born that way. So, for me, it doesn't make sense when people are angry because they want to see a gay person saying these things, or a person of color... the truth is someone is saying them, and they’re saying them very loudly and articulately and with eye contact.
I shared my personal story because I believe in the power of the personal story. I believe the world has been changed, that history was made, when Macklemore shared his story. I am proud to have allies who practice what they preach. I am proud that, when given their first set at the Grammys- where they could have sexy dancers or strobe lights or whatever spectacle they wanted- that this is what Macklemore & Ryan Lewis chose. It is fucking rad. And it is 2014, baby. Get used to it.
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