Requiem for a friend...almost 30 years too late.

Last night I got a message from my friend Jo that said "Go check my blog". So I did. She was writing about a mutual friend of ours that we both knew many, many years ago, and her post broke my heart. I too owe our friend more than silence. And I speak here with Jo's consent.

There was this little band of us, three of us in high school, one of us in college. We were all friends and members together in church, myself, Jo, Mo, and JP.

Jo and I went to high school together for a time. She was the minister's daughter, which meant of course, that she lived her life in that uncomfortable fish bowl that all preachers kids live in. In her case, it was times a factor of 10, given her parents deep involvement in the local presbytery and beyond, with the denomination. I did realize that Jo was under extreme pressure, even back then; I am only just now, as we have renewed our friendship after decades, finding out just how bad it was!

 Mo was a young college student, and I think the oldest of the four of us. She played guitar and banjo, with incredible talent, and had an incredible gift for singing. I also played guitar and sang, although not quite at Mo's skill level.

JP had been my friend since birth (not kidding about that - our moms were pregnant at the same time with us, our parents were dear friends, and she and I grew up in each other's back pockets, so to speak.) The four of us formed a quartet of friendship, music, faith and fun. We were usually found together on Wednesday nights at church. Mo came over to my house and played music for my parents.

I graduated, and went off to college. The first year I came home for the summer, I was hauled off for a trip with my parents, and then worked for my dad at his business. I saw Mo briefly - nothing seemed wrong, exactly. Or did it? Does what I have learned now add a new perspective to an old memory? I want to say I felt that she was uncomfortable, and that something was seriously out of kilter. If I did see this then, it was subliminal, an instinctive question that never quite emerged into the light of day, I have no idea now if I wish I had spoken up or not...I saw Mo one more time, in December of that year. I was in the hospital with surgery, she came to visit and sat with me. So did JP, though they came at different times, and not together. Is that significant, now, I wonder?

I don;'t remember seeing Jo at all. JP was at church, but she was here going to a local college, and we were going two different directions, we didn't really connect as strongly. And then I went back to school. Due to how the next few years played out, I was almost not at home at all for 3 summers straight - I worked jobs out of state, went to Alabama for a summer with my college roommate, etc. When I came home for good, three years later, it was to a stunning tragedy.

Jo was married (which turned out to be not a good thing, over the years, but hindsight is 20/20) and she was not at our church any more, though we saw each other every so often.

JP and I did reconnect and had a few years of close friendship before we drifted apart again.

But the tragedy was Mo.

She was dead.

I don't think anyone even told me when she had died. Not even my parents! I was stunned and devastated. And something was horribly wrong. I could not get any  real information on what in the hell had happened. NO ONE would talk about it. Mom and Dad intimated that there had been "problems". The closest thing I could find out was from JP, who stated that Mo had overdosed. Possibly suicide. End of story. No further details. JP was very terse, harsh and judgmental. Which became a pattern that was characteristic of JP, although I had never really seen it before this. I was horrified at the bitterness and callousness of JP's response. I can see now it was a mask for pain and sorrow too. But that was it.  I could not get any further information. Out of anyone. It remained one of life's dark mysteries, that my mind returned to every so often over the years, usually late at night in the privacy of my own thoughts. My own life became very confused at this time, as I struggled with coming out as Gay, and then in self denial, ran from that truth for the next decade.

JP and I stayed fairly close, up until we both married. We slowly drifted apart, again, and now see very little if nothing of each other. I can't say I totally regret this. We inhabit different worlds, philosophically and spiritually. Should we ever discuss these things, the result would be terrible. There are times when its wise to let go.

And then there are times when letting go is stupid. Jo was pretty much out of my life for years afterwards. She changed churches, and denominations. She moved out of state. Occasionally, once in a blue moon, we collided around town when she was visiting her parents. Given that I was Gay, and still thinking of Jo as the Christian I had known, I held her at arms length. The last thing I needed, my reasoning went, was for Jo to find out I was gay, and word through her to get back to her father, and through that, to my parents and family. Oh, what I did not know! (For this, I apologize, Jo. I should have trusted you.) I was always very glad to see her, but wary, and kept contact superficial.
As I said, hindsight is 20/20. Bitterly so.

A few months ago, Jo's Mother died. I went to the funeral, back at the old church, which I have long since left, and saw Jo for the first time in years. It was an extraordinarily uncomfortable funeral - there were under currents that were strange. And being there is always heart wrenching for me anyway, due to the memories I have. But it was a joy to see Jo. We swapped enough information to get in touch, and when I got home I got an extraordinary email from her - she has left Christianity, and found a new path as a pagan Goddess worshiper, and she has been coming Out as Gay. So....my return email was "Well, guess what, I left the old church, I am Episcopalian now and a a third degree pagan priest, and Gay" Which of course led to Jo pointing out that she has suspected that I was Gay for awhile. It must be the flashing sign over my head...anyway. We have spent the last few months joyfully reconnecting, talking over old times.  I came Out further to her as transgender, we follow each other's blogs etc, and have plans to spend time together, DreamWeaver, and myself and Jo, for Beltane with her group.

And  then Mo's name came up. We have been talking about her for a number of weeks, edging around what happened to her all those years ago. And then Jo posted her blog last night...

And this is what Jo said.  Mo was Gay. She and Jo lived together for awhile during those years I was away at college. Mo was in counselling with Jo's father, the minister of the church, struggling with her homosexuality and receiving nothing but judgement and condemnation and being told you must change. And Jo and Mo were lovers. But Jo, as it says in her blog post, finally left Mo and moved out - broke up, so to speak, because Jo's parents were pouring on extreme pressure for Jo to move out and get away from Mo. Jo was also struggling with the "oh my God, am I Gay?" question, and facing the horribly conditional love of her parents that she never could satisfy. It was an unbelievably nightmarish situation.

Finally, Jo's father refused to counsel Mo any further, and cut her off, because she could not force herself to be straight. I wonder if that was carried further - was she actually excommunicated from the church? I don't know, but it sure would fit the situation - this church has done it before, in its arrogance and intolerance.

What we conjecture may have happened, due to JP's harsh judgement and bitterness and reticence after Mo's death, is that Mo MIGHT have confided in JP her struggle with being Gay. We don't know for sure and I doubt we may ever know, but it fits. And if Mo had confided in her, knowing JP, she rejected Mo and cut her off. It would be consistent with JP's pattern of behavior.

Jo was driven away by the terrible threat of losing her parents love and acceptance, and by the nightmare condemnation of the conservative church.
Whatever happened between JP and Mo, JP for sure wasn't there for her.
And I was gone, out of town, out of touch with the whole thing, and clueless.

And Mo killed herself.

She killed herself because she was Gay, and the church condemned her for it. Her support system unraveled, partially due to the bigotry of the church. And she could not reconcile at all her inner self as a Gay person and the crushing judgement and demands of the faith which had been her solace and refuge up until then.

And now I know my friend Mo died by her own hand, unable to reconcile her truths.

I have spent this night weeping, and raging. Heartbroken for Mo, and for Jo, for the horror they endured at the hands of the church. Heartbroken that I was not there for them at the time. You always have that feeling, you know? Maybe I could have made a difference. But that was almost 3 decades ago. My own self realization of being gay had not even begun when this all took place. I was not then what I am now, did not know what I know now. I do know that I would not have been cruel. Even back then, I was capable of unconditional love. But I also would have at that time intellectually believed the traditional rationale that homosexuality was a sin. Maybe the unconditional love would have been enough to balance that. More than likely, I would have been another nail driven into Mo's coffin. It will always be a "what if", in this life. And it will haunt me forever.

So these are MY words to Mo.

Mo, I also loved you. I miss you and I wish to God I had been there for you. I pray for your forgiveness that I was not there when you needed me, even though it was perhaps impossible for me to have known that at the time. I have loved you and remembered you for all these years. And despite the pain, I am glad I now know what happened. Your life was a blessing to me.
You will always be remembered. And what is remembered, lives.
Love,
Cameron

Taking a stand...this is beautiful!

100 year old Irish Flute at the Space Station....

ANYBODY PASSING THROUGH, PLEASE READ!

...and especially including the links. The New York Times recently published an article regarding the heineous rape of an 11 year old girl in Texas. That such a thing could happen is horrifying enough...however the New York Times article compounded this atrocity by victim blame, subtle stereotyping, and a sickening description of the crime scene. 

The issues attending this are well explained here at Alternet, including that we have been told the ages of the men and several have been personalized: "Five suspects are students at Cleveland High School, including two members of the basketball team. Another is the 21-year-old son of a school board member." Etc. All we know about the 11-year-old is her age and gender.Quotes cited in the article place blame on the mother of the child, who for all we know may have been frantically looking for or appealing for help for her daughter, and even if she wasn't, does that justify gang rape? The little girl is described as dressing inappropriately for her age (too old and hanging out with older boys) which perpetuates the stereotype of "she asked for it", which as my friend MizBehavin states "I don't care what a female is wearing, how her make up is, if she is buck naked and dancing the watusi in the middle of the street .... rape is wrong.To rape a child is beyond foul...People have this misconception that rape is a sexual/sensual act. It's not. It's about power. A rapist takes the victims power to control what happens to their own body." 

Let me point out some more from the actual article..."The town’s economy has always rested on timber, cattle, farming and oil. But there are pockets of poverty, and in the neighborhood where the assault occurred, well-kept homes sit beside boarded-up houses and others with deteriorating facades." Obviously (dripping with sarcasm, note) these things only happen on the "poor side of town". couldn't possibly happen in a well to do neighborhood, and well, poor people aren't as important, and they do these things to each other, they are not as "human" as we are...
They said "she dressed older than her age, wearing makeup and fashions more appropriate to agrown woman in her 20s. She would hang out with teenage boys at a playground"...friends, I am in a therapy masters program, and I can very clearly state that a young child who dresses and behaves in ways that are older like this quite possibly has already been a victim of sexual predation and molestation.If I had been the school counselor, I would have been all over this looking for that possibility! That should be a screaming red flag to assess for child molestation somewhere back up the time frame...instead, as is pointed out, she is judged as a little harlot who tempted men.
The trailer where this atrocity took place is sickeningly, lovingly described down to the last detail...last time I looked, the latest shooting at the local gas station was not described down to the location of the aisles and the amount of milk in the freezers! In fact, I don't think I have ever seen a description of a crime scene like this outside of a murder mystery, let alone in a newspaper that is of the caliber the NYT is SUPPOSED to be. I got the feeling the author of this garbage was enjoying fantasizing about the scene! It felt slimy!

There is a Petition circulating for the New York Times to issue a published apology for their coverage of this incident and publish an editorial from a victim's rights expert on how victim blaming in the media contributes to the prevalance of sexual assault. Please take a moment of your time and sign it...there is a space to personalize your signature with your thoughts. They are up to 15,000 signatures at least, at the time of this blog. 

Sadly, so far, the New York Times has failed miserably in its response, stating that they published the views they found, and standing by their article. 

Finally, partially in response to this article, as well as to other issues arising in the news and community, a new Face Book Group has been formed called Survivor Here. Its mission statement is as follows...

"This group, Survivor Here has formed out of a community of friends who have reached the point that we feel we must do something more than just rant about social injustice, hate and pain. We wish to make our words heard. We wish to be available with compassion to those who are in need and hurt. We wish to provide a forum for not only our anger and our activism, but also for those who are also survivors, who know a survivor, or whose social conscience and compassion drives them to do more. We wish to address Rape and this culture that blames the victim, and perpetrates the pain. We wish to address religious persecution and intolerance. We wish to address Marriage Equality and and Equal Rights for GLBTQ's We wish to address all hate crimes and racism We wish to address any time any where that our culture and our government fails in its moral and ethical duty. We wish to hear your stories... We wish to honor all our experiences with compassion and gratitude for our strength and survival as a community and a family. We wish to honor diversity. If you know of any petition, injustice or need, please contribute it to the group. Survivors here... And our voice will be heard! "Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has." Margaret Mead"

Anybody who wishes to join and contribute or needs a place to vent, be an activist, or share their story in community, please check it out and join. 

Maybe its a small thing, but small things change the world! 

Final Flight of the Discovery...

Twelve thousand, half-million, million and more
Picnicking out on the warm-water shore.
Nobody notes that we're always at hand
To watch all the space-ships that take off and land.

Politicians ignore us, the media too...

But if they don't notice, the ships always do.
See her landing so lightly, you'd swear that she cares
That she flies on two wings and a good million prayers.

Witness' Waltz

Leslie Fish

Counter Protest - Fourth and Final Part...

Prophet H. Walker is questioned regarding True Light Pentecostal Church's picket permit.

A final post on the Counter Protest to Westboro Baptist Church's scheduled picket of the screening of Anatomy of Hate...

As we now know, Westboro Baptist Church was a no - show, though we happily went ahead with our counter protest. However, there were evidently some individuals who showed up in SUPPORT of Westboro, which is something I have never heard of occurring before. Not to say it hasn't, but I sure have never heard of it, or seen pictures of any other church or organization ever supporting or turning out to join Westboro's infamous hate filled picket lines. Until this past Monday. 

True Light Pentecostal Church  showed up with eight people to support Westboro.“We're protesting because we're against these rallies that the sodomites (and) lesbians have. We're trying to show another side of America — the true side of America,” said Prophet H. Walker, overseer of True Light.


One wonders if they even understood the original reasoning Westboro scheduled to turn out? The Phelps picketers scheduled their protest to oppose Anatomy of Hate; Dialogue of Hope because it, rightfully so, identifies them as a hate group, not as a direct protest of anything GLBTQ related. True Light's statement referring to our counter protest as a rally of sodomites and lesbians is utterly ludicrous, given that the percentage of GLBT in the crowd of students was actually very low - most were straight, and a fair amount were both GLBT and straight identifying Christians. Also, based on all the photographs and information I have been able to turn up, True Light appears to be an African American Church. Anatomy of Hate opposed racism of the most virulent sort - the Aryan movements that would despise and seek to destroy a church like True Light. Over all, this very much boggled my mind. True Light, it must be pointed out, does have mission projects that house and feed the homeless and the hungry, and despite their extremely conservative stance on scripture, appear to be a positive influence in their venues.

It was still disturbing to realize that my area of the world produced a picket line in support of Phelps and Westboro's virulent hate message, particularly since it was obvious that they had not truly researched what they were protesting in actuality. It kinda blows my mind, actually. 

I also learned that money was raised based on the public's counter protest! The money, totaling $550.00, went to  Piedmont Care, a local AIDS non profit advocacy organization and for Upstate Pride, the local organization for the Gay Pride in this area. This is excellent. So...lets see...a hundred or so students on the campus counter protesting, a hundred or so counter protesters from the local community and surrounding colleges also taking a stand, a packed out showing of Anatomy of Hate, funds raised toward two excellent organizations, Westboro was a no show, and even though it disturbed me that they showed at all, only eight very mistaken picketers for Westboro. 

All in all...I am proud of my community and very glad to have been a part of it that Monday night! 

Counter Protest Part Three...

So, what then, why then, do we kill? Why do we hate? Why do we do these horrible things to ourselves as a self aware sentient species? The Documentary explored this – that we are very much wired for survival by our evolutionary heritage. Our Limbic systems are wired for survival, for finding food, for procreation, for fight or flight. However, as self aware intelligent species, we have the capacity for Love, for culture, for science, for learning, for growth beyond imagining – we imagine. And we also Hate.  Carl Jung’s idea of the Shadow self that we are uneasy with, the dark, survival oriented, aggression that is in all of us – we perhaps project it outward – no, not me, I can’t be like this – he’s the demon, he’s the bad guy, he is the focus for all my aggression…I am good, I am saved, I am superior. And when we are told that we are threatened by the Other, when we are told that the Other are monsters, we hate. We damn. We kill.

So, what about the other half of the documentaries title – “Dialog of Hope”? Where in all these gory, pitiless, nightmare scenes does the Hope come in, when does dialog start?  

The Israeli/Westbank has a growing number of Israeli and Arabs who have withdrawn from the armies and the insurgents, and have begun to sit down and talk. The call themselves Combatants for Peace. They are dialoging. They are discovering that there are no demons, only people who have been trapped in this cycle and that there is a better way out – they have begun a school for Israeli and Arab children together, so that they can play together and learn together and grow up without hate and talking to each other and finding their best friends among each other.

The US troop who lost one of their members to the Iraqis, later found themselves teamed up together in a mission against Al Qaeda with the very men who had most likely killed their buddy. It was hard going, but they sat down and talked and slowly realized that they we all people, more alike than different, able to talk, able to understand that they did not have to hate each other, that they both had friends who had died because they were caught in the machinery of war, but they did not personally wish anyone to die or to kill each other. And they became friends and teammates together.

The Westboro Baptist Church founder, Fred Phelps has a stunning unknown past. He was a Civil Rights Lawyer who in the 60’s took on many Civil Rights cases for the black community and won. He is honored by the NAACP. During that time, he and his family were called nigger lovers and suffered abuse at the hands of the community, as he fought the Jim Crowe laws.

And then there in the movie, there is the story, in his own words in an interview, of the White Supremacist who went into a gay church to plant a bomb on a Sunday morning which would have killed close to 100 people. He sat there, in the service, brief case in hand with the bomb…and looked around and thought, these are people just like me. They are here to be close to God, just like I do at church. How can I do this? And he turned to his buddy who was with him…and said, “Come on. Let’s go.” And walked out, taking the un-triggered bomb with him.

 When we stop projecting hate, when we stop listening to rhetoric that says “Any one different is a monster, is not like me, I must hate them, I must kill them”, when we start talking to people and beginning that dialog, that discussion and see the person as another human being, more alike us than different from us, the cycle of fear and aggression and hate begins to break. It does not mean that we must AGREE with each other, but that we can disagree without making the other into an enemy to focus our hate on. I cannot agree with Shirley Phelps Roper…everything she stands for is anathema to me, as I am sure I am to her. But I can look past it, and not hate her, and see instead a human being just like me. Not a monster, but one with pain, and inner struggles that have landed her where she is. And I can take a peaceful stand against what she believes, wearing a shirt that says “Love is…” instead of Hate. Hate is easy. Love and dialog are harder. Both are learned. And dialog is our hope and our salvation.

It was an amazing night, all told, with the counter protest and the incredible turn out, and getting to actually hear and speak to Mike Ramsdell (you betcha I got the DVD autographed!) and seeing this amazing Documentary.  In the end, the fact that the Westboro Baptist Church and their picket weren’t there became irrelevant. What we came together and shared became so much bigger, and I suspect many of my classmates and fellow students left that documentary and that event with their lives changed.  I am honored to have been a part of it, and frankly…

Westboro, we're sorry you weren’t there…you missed something really amazing. 

We missed you!