Well, it’s been exactly two years since I announced I would be taking a two year hiatus and I am pleased to report that it is officially over next month. I’ve been working on a new record which is slated for this fall, and am going to be releasing the 1st single, “Turn Me Out” on Tuesday, June 5th, 2012 (3 weeks from today). The song was co-written by David Appaloosa (from pop supergroup The Hugs), and was produced and engineered by Gino Mari at The Country Club Recording Studios in Portland, Oregon.

We started shooting the “Turn Me Out” video this week as well, so…stay tuned! So much fun stuff happening…

Still keeping the audio for this new track under lock and key, but I released the cover art today. Check it out:

Logan Lynn: “Turn Me Out”
Release Date: Tuesday, June 5th, 2012
Lyrics and Vocals by Logan Lynn.
Music and Programming by David Appaloosa.
Produced and Engineered by Gino Mari .
Recorded & Mixed at The Country Club – Portland, Oregon.

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 5/7/2012)

I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be a hero lately, spawned mostly by my recent involvement in a project called Queer Heroes NW, created in partnership with Q Center (Portland’s LGBTQ Community Center) and GLAPN (the Gay & Lesbian Archives of the Pacific Northwest). The idea behind the endeavor was to focus in on individuals who have helped shape the local LGBT movement here in Oregon and southwest Washington, honor them for making our community safer over the years, and teach a new generation about how we got here from there.

Often, when I think of the history of the gay rights movement, only of a few select big-name activists come to mind. It’s easy to forget about all the people who didn’t make the papers or have a movie made about their impact, and in so doing, we skip over the people who have put their neck on the line for our local communities, with little or no recognition in return. Part of the goal in creating Queer Heroes NW was to secure these brave souls a permanent spot in our queer history, and also to thank them for the work they have done to make us free and keep us free.

Over the years I have had many people touch my life in heroic ways. I was always picked on for being perceived as “girly” or “gay” growing up, and by the time I reached high school, the bullying was unbearable (like it is for many gay kids). I had one teacher who stepped into the role of queer hero #1 on the first day of my freshman year. His classroom instantly became a safe haven for me, and I knew that I could always count on him to stand up for me, shut down the meanness, and help cultivate allies with the other kids in my class through his teachings of acceptance around diversity. He was not gay himself, and I’m sure this was not a popular role for him to take on with other teachers or the administration, but he never backed down. Every day from the time I arrived in his classroom to the time I left, he was in my court. There were times when he would watch to make sure I was safe during lunch, and there was a whole year when he walked behind me as I went from his classroom to the next one. We made a deal that he would walk far enough back that none of the other kids would know, but close enough that people would be on their best behavior, thus creating a hedge of protection of sorts around me. This was a brave move on the part of this kind man. The safety and support he provided me was enough to keep me in school and earn him the title of “queer hero” then, and still to this day.

Years later, as I was struggling to make it in the music industry, another kind man named Perry Turcotte reached out to me and offered to place my music videos in a new show he was producing for MTV, called NewNowNext, which would air on a brand-new network experiment aimed toward the LGBT community, called Logo. I of course jumped at the chance. From there, he basically took me under his MTV-artist-development wing, flying me out to New York City to be interviewed, airing my videos in heavy rotation on the channel, and eventually having me host the show and appear in commercial spots for the network. Read the rest of this entry »

Those of you who live in Portland have probably already caught wind of the media blitz I have, once again, found myself in with regard to my ongoing small group dialogue project between members of the queer community and members of the Mars Hill Church. After this past week’s vandalism and threats (video below) Pastor Tim and I decided to go on OPB’s “Think Out Loud” today and talk about our experience together thusfar. It first aired this morning live at 9:00am and will air once more again this evening at 9:00pm, so tune in!

You can download the MP3 HERE.

If you care to catch up on everything that happened to get us here this week, follow the links and watch the video below:

Q Center’s Executive Director Speaks Out Against Threats of Violence
KGW News (NBC)
Fox 12 News
PQ Monthly (Article 1)
The Christian Post
PQ Monthly (Article 2)
The Oregonian
The Portland Mercury
KOIN 6 (CBS)
Rev. Chuck Currie

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 4/18/2012)

I went to see filmmaker Lee Hirsch‘s new documentary, Bully, this past weekend, and even now, days later, I still find myself deeply affected. When I say that, I’m speaking not so much about the film (although it was beautifully made and completely moving) but to the extreme heartache I have felt since watching it. I started sobbing about 30 seconds into the movie and didn’t really stop until the following morning. I cried for the parents who have lost their children to bullying, I cried for the bullied subjects in the film, and I cried for myself, having gone through an amplified version of all of this years ago.

Yesterday, after reading reports of yet another 14-year-old queer kid being bullied to death in America, this time in Iowa, the feeling turned once again from sadness to anger. My own growing-up-gay-in-the-Midwest story reads like some sort of fucked-up textbook for how LGBT kids come into the world, how we maneuver through, and often how we go out. The torture I suffered at the hands of my peers as a closeted child and then as an out teenager is one that is shared by many in the community. In reality I was quite lucky to have survived back then, although I almost didn’t survive the years that followed.

I took in violence as a young man like a sponge takes up water. It came in many forms, but I always did the same thing with it: I absorbed it and made it part of me, every mean thing anyone ever called me believed, every punch thrown my way shaped into my being. I spent years reacting to other people’s hate in a variety of colorful ways, living out the disappointment of everyone who had ever known me in real time. I was driven by uncontrollable rage, crippling fear, and a sense of mourning for the person everyone else thought I should be but whom I knew I would never become. Over time I grew used to the abuse, said goodbye to my sweetness, and let the violence take me over.

Even as an adult I am still dealing with this very old idea about myself and a world that says that I am nothing; that I somehow deserve to taste blood in my mouth, because I am not actually a person; that I need to hide in order to stay alive. To this day, when I encounter homophobia, my first reaction is often to fight; sometimes the motivation is to protect myself or the man I love, but sometimes it’s because I just want to see that look of surprise on the face of some mouthy jock who didn’t expect this particular weak, pussy-faggot to be scrappy and fight back. I’ve spent countless hours in therapy working on this very thing, but having spent my formative years defending myself both physically and emotionally, it’s sometimes hard to turn that survival reflex off.

Just this past weekend, as we walked by a group of meathead bro-dudes with tribal tattoos and spray tans, one of them mocked what I had said to my boyfriend as we passed, only he did it in full-blown sissy voice. I stopped. My initial instinct was to Read the rest of this entry »