If conservative Christians believe homosexuality can be cured, why did they banish Ted Haggard? Why did the men who worked his miracle healing in the desert and announced that Haggard is 100% heterosexual then suggest it would be best that he move out of Colorado and seek a secular job? And why, in response, has [...]
Archive for March, 2008
Old news, but I can’t help but wonder…
Posted in culture, politics, queer, tagged ex-gay, exodus, religion, Ted Haggard on March 7, 2008 | 1 Comment »
There is a balm in Gilead
Posted in butch, culture, gender, geography, queer, violence, tagged AIDS, Annie Dillard, drug abuse, ftm, grief, loss, suicide on March 6, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
Knowing another human being is like looking through a microscope. What is placed directly under the lens defines our field of view and thus our understanding.
Today, in the midst of more snow and cold, away from the lesbian community I knew in Eugene, Ore., long gone from the radical dyke community of San Francisco, [...]
While the breast parade passes by…
Posted in butch, gender, queer, tagged Boobs, butch, Playboy on March 5, 2008 | 2 Comments »
Did you hear the one about the dyke who went into the library to find Playboy magazine?
She was reading it for the interviews.
No, really.
I’m a college professor. I was teaching class on interviewing. It may be a cliché at this point, but Playboy really did have good articles. And superb interviews. I wanted a [...]
How many of us must die?
Posted in politics, queer, tagged AIDS on March 4, 2008 | 2 Comments »
I have been thinking a lot about AIDS lately, and the years I spent in San Francisco at the beginning of the epidemic. And I am having a hard time putting together those days of rage and grief and fear with the current state of the (now) pandemic.
The number of people in the U.S. infected [...]
If there is a choice between crying and snarling, snarl.
Posted in culture, gender, queer, relationships, tagged butch, life, menopause, relationships on March 3, 2008 | 4 Comments »
A wave of sobs lodged itself in my throat, threatening my composure during a conversation with a friend Friday.
What better way to destroy the butch dyke mythos than to start sobbing in a coffee shop.
“You should see the look on your face,” she said.
Sternly, I answered that I was pissed, and that she had been [...]
