(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 7/13/2012)

My grandfather is turning 100 years old next month, which completely blows my mind. I’m flying to South Dakota with my partner to do strange Americana activities at Mt. Rushmore and then celebrate his century of life with everyone on my mother’s side of the family. It’s going to be a very special time, and I am really looking forward to it. I wish my aunt could be there with us, but this year has brought with it big heartaches, as well, and she is no longer here. It’s devastating to think about my grandpa having to endure losing his daughter so late in his life, but he is a very wise old man, and he has handled her passing better than any of the rest of us.

I suppose that sort of deep understanding about death is to be expected of a person who has lived 100 years. He has already said goodbye to his grandparents, his parents, his cousins, his siblings, all his friends, and his wife. He is at peace with having loved and lost, and he seems to be fine with his own mortality. Clearly, this man knows something about life that I have yet to learn.
Read the rest of this entry »

(Originally Published on The Huffington Post on 6/15/2012)

Happy Pride Month, everybody! I am preparing to be neck-deep in an array of Portland’s gape ride festivities this coming weekend, then I’m flying east to New York City with my man to promote my new single, relax, and do Pride all over again. There is much to celebrate this year! For me, this time is about honoring our love, valuing who we are as people, and remembering the brave LGBT folks who have paved the way for us.

For this (third) round of “Queer Celebrities Need Love, Too” I chatted with pop legend Fred Schneider (The B-52s, The Superions), Bravo’s Chris March (Project Runway, Mad Fashion), transgender rapper Katastrophe, electrorock lovechild Seth Bogart (Gravy Train!!!!, Hunx and His Punx), queercore pioneer turned folk powerhouse Kaia Wilson (Team Dresch, The Butchies), Joan Jett‘s indie rock prodigies Girl in a Coma, self-proclaimed drag terrorist Christeene, artist/author Slava Mogutin, and English singer/songwriter Scott Matthews. They all answered the same five questions about what queer pride means to them:

1. If you could sum up in one word what it means for you to have queer pride, what would it be?

2. How will you celebrate pride this year?

3. Would you ever be in a relationship with someone who was still in the closet and planned on remaining that way?

4. In thinking about your own experience with relationships and just what exactly we are celebrating this Pride Month, please tell us about the first time in your life when you felt proud of who you are and of your queer love.

5. If that personal pride experience were adapted into a film, what song would be the soundtrack to that scene?

(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 »