Proud

Today was the Gay Pride Parade and Festival in Indianapolis. I’ll say now that it’s been most of a decade since I last attended any kind of Pride event. There are various reasons for this, mostly pertaining to past work schedules. However, this year the stars aligned (I mean that literally, as today happens to also be Shani Jayanti) and I was able to attend. Things have changed!

For starters, the sheer volume of people attending the Indy festivities is exponentially bigger than it was when I last attended. SO many people were there. Also the number of vendors has grown quite a lot. Late in the day, I heard a dag queen proclaim from the main performance stage that Indy Pride is now TENTH in the list of “best” Pride festivals in the WORLD. I’m not sure how this is true, or that I even believe it, but I can say it kicks ass in its own way. When it was first held in 1988, there was only a single float in the parade and the parade took a mere 15 minutes. And I can remember from events in the recent past (within the last decade) that large parts of the massive downtown park were vacant. Definitely not the case today – thankfully!

As with any other life experience, I found today’s adventure to be one of learning. Please allow me to share.

1) There are many kinds of people in the world. This is how it’s always been. It’s how it’ll always be. This is because suchness is a goodness.

2) There will be those who disagree with #1. And when force-fields are erected in effort to silence or mute those who disagree with #1, they will pay good money to buy their way to a spot inside that protected area. I saw this first-hand today.

3.1) Many people wear things they oughtn’t to wear.

3.2) All – and I do mean all – of the people I saw walking around in only undergarments today were nearly the exact opposite of the physical appearance you’d ever want to see wearing only underwear in public. This was first noted today by my beloved. A great many people SHOULD be discouraged from some of the wardrobe choices they make. This isn’t being mean. This is encouraging responsibility.

4) On occasion, when exposed to sun and upon neglecting application of sunscreen, it becomes quite apparent that a significant part of my genetic makeup comes directly from that of lobsters. This is currently VERY evident right now and will likely remain quite visible for the next few days.

5) I find that as much as rainbow bracelets and excessive body glitter annoy me, I recognize that at these gatherings it’s important for my people to express exactly what they feel how they feel it. I noticed a number of people who seemed to be dabbling with gender bending solely for the sake of shock value or outrageousness. They looked ridiculous or gross – I’m not talking about transgendered people or intersex. But that’s perfectly okay because that’s only my limited perception from within my own, very hard-earned, secure identity. There are many whose personal shape isn’t as clearly defined as I experience mine to be. I think this is partially because many refuse to continuously invest the effort required to know one’s self, and partially because for many people the lines simply are more blurred than my own. As I walked the festival a number of times today, noticing new people with each step, I began having a kind of “dual” experience. On one hand, noticing a number of people and scenes that were just about embarrassing, I found myself thoroughly entertained by Maya’s spectrum. On the other hand, in the face of such immense diversity, I began also to see The One that connects us all and found myself soaked in the Universe’s amazing and sometimes bizarre beauty.

And now, on the verge of tomorrow, I’m quite tired, quite sunburned, quite fulfilled, and quite ready to be at temple bright and early tomorrow offering my sincerest and most humble gratitude to Ganesha for all that life is.

Om Shanti

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Cake Taker

I’ll spare the full and exact details of the following conversation – which you should be warned is of a mostly medical, but adult nature, but suffice to say that I just had a chat with someone about contracting HIV. This person is “on the DL,” which for anyone who doesn’t know, means he actively lives a hetero life, possibly with a wife or girlfriend, but very secretly engages in homosexual behaviours. For the record, this DL demographic is more prevalent in non-white communities and is also one of the groups with highest instance of HIV.

**Parentheticals and quotation marks are mine.**

Dude: Bare oral (unprotected oral sex) is more dangerous than letting someone breed you.

(For anyone not current on vulgar slang, “breed,” as you might guess, references the act of insemination. The implication here is unprotected anal sex.)

Me: How so? (Knowing full and well the risks associated with either act.)

Dude: Just like eating food. It goes right into your system. If someone breeds you, it’s more likely to push the sperm out of the anus.”

Me: You won’t usually get HIV from “swallowing.” And anal sex is WAY more likely to infect someone… even if “it” is pushed out. Food goes into your system when it’s digested. HIV doesn’t work that way.”

Dude: You could have an open sore in your mouth. (His first valid point) But whatever. I gotta go.

———————————————————————————————————————————————-

Please allow me to make clear on something:

In the context of unprotected oral sex – HIV is a serious risk. However, the risks are statistically lessened in the context of oral sex and ingesting semen is not how someone becomes infected in that context. The only truly threatening way someone will contract HIV through unprotected oral sex is if he/she (whoever is in the passive/receptive role) has a sore or cut of some kind in his/her mouth. Otherwise, still in the context of oral, the risks of getting some other STI is greater.

In the context of unprotected anal sex – HIV infection is statistically more likely than with oral sex. The idea that oral sex is more dangerous because of it “getting in your system the same way food does” is an enormous falsehood and is as laughable as thinking drinking sugar water will make someone a sweeter person. “Pushing it out” after having unprotected anal intercourse is equally false and ineffective. In fact, it’s veritably impossible to prevent infection in this way because even if a person DOES “push it out,” he/she won’t be able to rid their body of all traces of the semen and even if THAT were possible, infection is still far more likely anally than orally.

This gentleman is a great example of how misinformation/miseducation, or an entire lack thereof, is literally deadly.

Proof that knowledge is not only power, but also life.

Om Shanti

वह दुखो और वह रमण

There are days when you have to reconnect with friends you’d lost touch with and have a glass of wine. Or two. This happened with me recently and it was an experience. For starters, allow me to just state that I attract ALL manner of folk. My beloved and my best can verify this.

You might be a mentally ill dude who sees cake topper candy as real food. You might be an aging man who’s spent his entire life stifling your sexuality, only to come out too late to really get anywhere this time around and then spend your days secretly seeking penis while outwardly claiming that you seek genuine connections, apparently not realizing you’re shooting yourself in your own foot. You might be a tall, lanky middle aged gentleman translator with hair I’m a little jealous of who offers decent wine when I’m over. You might be my math professor and his wife. You might be another, rare, white Hindu who just happens to get around on some wheels instead of some feet. I could probably go on and on about the randomness of the variety of people in my life and who I call friends. But I’m not really in the mood for that, and besides spades often take exception to being called a spade, even when there’s no harmful intent.

Anyway, Wednesday of this week was a doozey for me. I’d been battling a head cold, but managed to be feeling exceptionally better that day. (This would prove to be a VERY temporary reprieve, as I awoke Thursday sicker than I’d been the prior three days combined.) A friend of mine, who I briefly mentioned at the beginning of this post, taught me about me without even knowing.

I think we met off of the Internet. Craigslist, I think. I’m sure I’d posted some crazy “Hey who wants a friend” kind of ad (no wonder my small group of associates is so random!), and this kind soul responded. He’s brilliant in his own way. And, although I’m fond of climbing trees in bare feet, having amazing and life-threatening river adventures, and dancing ridiculously and often scantily clad before my menagerie of pets, this guy seems freer than I. I can’t quite place it, but I really think he is.

I’ll spare the details of our conversations, but through speaking with him recently, I was reminded of two things that are absolutely important. The first is that you MUST live your own dharma as fully as you are able. Very few other people are qualified to tell you what your dharma might entail. You must do the leg work to discern your dharma, your truest path in life, and then do more leg work to actualize it daily. The second thing is this: No swadharma (individual’s dharma, truest path) is better than anyone else’s. How my karmas play out should be irrelevant to you and vice versa.

These two unexpected reminders were welcome, I’ll say.

After hanging out with this gentleman, I rushed home as quickly as possible to get my Skype on with an out-of-state non-Indian Hindu who interviewed me for a documentary he’s putting together. He’d given me some good questions beforehand to prepare with and it was nice to speak with him live, although not without headache! (My first time using Skype in Windows 8, and it about sent me into orbit.) I’ve seen another video or two that he’s made and he seems to do well with the tools he uses. I’m hopeful that the fruits of his labors will produce something of quality that can be shared on Youtube and other outlets for folks to view.

Om Shanti

Nigh upon 1997

Today is National Coming Out Day, and I think it’s auspicious tha the date is a clean 10/11/12. I think it’s fitting to tell my coming out story. Ready?

I was born.

No joke. That seems a bit ridiculous but that’s about where the whole thing begins. Of course, from day one my family knew how spectacular I was/would become. My birth mother says that she always knew I am gay. Always. I think my dad has always, too. I know, through the years, a number of other family members from both my paternal and maternal sides have told me that they knew (or could have guessed) from the time I was a very young age. I think if there was any doubt while I was still young, my infamous My Little Pony birthday party would have cleared things up, as well as my exhaustive My Little Pony collection (which included Seaponies, Flutterponies, etc…) some of which I still retain. I’d liked to have been able to post a photo with this entry that proves the party was a success, but alas, that evidence is filed away (with thousands of other photos taken through the years) in the family’s many-multi-tome Family Photo Album collection.

Truth be told, after the point of my birth, my coming out is fully a three-part experience. Keep reading.

At one point, not super long after diving into Christianity head first, and after getting my driver’s license, I found myself at the family computer with my father suddenly sitting next to me. He asked me a few lead-in questions like if something is wrong or …I forget what else he asked. He used my behavior at a recent family birthday get-together as an example. You see, it was my habit to disappear. I’d always bring a book or cassette/CD player, and then wander off into another part of the house, preferring seclusion.

I attempted to answer as vaguely as my young mind knew how. I recall saying something like, “Well, maybe there’s a lot going on in my mind right now and I can’t talk about it.” The truth here is that there was a lot going on in my mind. I’d already figured out that I’d never marry a woman, and was beginning to tackle how I’d approach my newest love, the Baptist Church, regarding who I am. I’d also just read a number of alarming stats on youth homelessness, and learned that an overwhelming majority of homeless youth are homeless because their parents kick them out for being gay. It was after I gave that first response, my father replied with the question, “Well, are you gay?” Suddenly feeling my heart in my throat, I looked down and didn’t answer immediately. Since I had stalled, my father stepped back into the conversation and said, “‘Cause if you are, get over it. Sex is great, but it’s not something that should rule your life.” I later answered him in the affirmative, still not realizing how sagely his advice was, but was very glad he hadn’t threatened to un-home me.

That’s part one -the most important part in my story. There’s never been a moment in my father’s life where he didn’t put his children above his own self. From the time I and my brother, Justin, were born -all through a marriage that was crazy and doomed and into a second marriage and ceaselessly for the last thirty years – he’s never shown anything except love to my siblings and me. The very same is to be said of his second wife, my real mom, Connie.

Part two, naturally, comes after part one. Feeling somewhat more stable knowing I wasn’t verging on homelessness, the next person I needed to know was my then-best friend, Sara-with-an-H Kidd. I recall writing here this LOOOOONG letter and asking her to meet me at the church we both attended. She did. We found our way up to the balcony in the sanctuary, and suddenly terrified, I gave her the letter to read right in front of me. Umm… but then because I feared she’d read a different tone than the one I’d written in, I took the letter back, and insisted that I read it to her, instead. I recall her being a little perplexed (after all, why not just tell her my words instead of reading them to her?), but she obliged. And so I read. And she listened. And when I was done reading/coming out to her, and asking her not to tell anyone yet, she said, “Oh Joshua, I love you and your secret is safe with me,” while opening her arms and squeezing them around me. Thus concludes scene two.

I had no idea when I came out to my best friend in the church balcony that the next big thing I’d do would be to come out to my church. I think to a lot of people, the weight of this is lost. I grew up in a very small town. At the turn of the last century, it still hadn’t reached even 20,000 inhabitants. In that town, two groups of people were just about the most influential: the farmers and the churches. Obviously a lot of overlap between the groups exists. In my hometown there were three main bodies of believers. There were Catholics. And then there were two quasi-mega churches, which were kind of really the same congregation that had split over an argument about money. These were the Baptists. There was Calvary Baptist Church and Baptist Temple. I always liked the name “Baptist Temple” better than the other, but the other is where I attended due to some band camp karma my freshman year of high school.

After I knew it wasn’t likely I’d be homeless, and after my best friend hadn’t (yet) shunned me, I decided tackle the church. The long-and-short of this is that rumors began to spread -not that I was gay, but that I was spreading “false doctrine.” This false doctrine was, of course, that I not only don’t feel the Bible condemns gays, but also that there’s proof of the contrary within it. Before I knew it, I’d been called to the home of my youth pastor, Dudley. He’d just built a really great home for his family and everyone loved being there. I don’t recall whether I knew why I was being called there or not, but I remember having a McDonald’s vanilla milkshake with me (the only thing I could keep down at the time, because of being upset due to a recent break up). After I arrived, we went into his library. I sat on the couch and he sat at his desk chair. He started right off with the accusation of spreading false doctrine. I explained that I thought it was neither doctrine, nor false. He disagreed and for only a few minutes we back-and-forth’ed on it all. Finally, he stopped us and asked me, “Do you consider yourself a homosexual?” I confirmed this. His response was, and I am quoting, “Well, there’s no place in the youth group, or anywhere else in the church, for someone like you.” As with my father, I looked down, only this time I wept. Honestly, I don’t recall what he might have said after that. In my memory, I can still see my feet and the McDonald’s cup that was beside them as I looked down crying as quietly as I could. At some point I just nodded that I understood, arose, and left.

I remember driving away that day with this dual feeling of immense pain and simultaneous relief. I had no idea what ordeals the following year would bring, both with the church and just about everywhere else. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say it was a time of “therapy,” loss and loneliness, and of strengthening.

Were it not for this window of time in my life, I certainly wouldn’t be who I am today. I think I’ve always been a bit independent and came here with a pretty finely tuned compass, but experiences like this offer a great opportunity to learn and grow. Indeed, that is the intent of all forms of pain. And not to sound arrogant or conceited, but each day reminds me that I’m about as awesome as I’ve ever been, and helps me look forward to the new awesomeness I’ll reach someday soon.

My heart sings a little when I think of how things were and what I went through, and how things are now and where they’re going. I’m so happy at what the youth of today are able to do and how they’re more able to truly and honestly live. They’re benefitting from the brave people of our past, and generations yet to come will benefit from the brave people of our today. Regardless of what our battles might be, bravery and honesty can’t be cheapened or downplayed. We owe it first to our own survival to be brave and honest, and also to the survival of those walking here after us.

Om Shanti!

Neti, Neti(Neti)

It’s pretty much been a month since I last wrote here. No good reason exists for this, really, aside from sometimes I feel like I’m about to pop and need to step back from a number of things. As much as I enjoy having a presence here, and as much as I enjoy hearing from you all on here, bloggering is currently an easy thing to step back from. So, with that said, please excuse my distance and my silence, and thanks for continuing to read my words.

The saying, “Neti, Neti” means essentially, “Not this, not that” and is employed be jnanis, among others, in the process of discerning Brahman’s nature and attributes. Because of the absoluteness of Brahman, a truer and truthfully more accurate way of knowing Truth is often found in knowing what Truth is not, thus, Neti-Neti. I sometimes use this when asked where I want to eat for dinner. I might not know what I’m in the mood for, but I can usually tell you what I’m not in the mood for, and so the process of refinement begins as to where dinner will be served.

I feel this concept applies to each of us as we’re on our journey toward Self-Realization, toward our real Nature which is Brahman. Obviously, because of our egos and individual experiences and individual karmas, the most base application of Neti-Neti is as it pertains to our minute, personal, human experience.

In that context, as far as my personal experience of Brahman in my life, I tend to view the episodes in my life as part of this process of elimination/refinement. I have an experience. Does it point to Truth or doesn’t it? Hinting at Truth is something everything everywhere does, so that doesn’t count. But does an experience, or a person, or dogma, or anything…does it definitively point to Truth? If not, learn from it and move on. Such is the case, in my life, for Christianity.

A co-worker, as part of our discussion today, stated that Mormonism is an un-Christian cult. I suppose if I looked more into it I might could agree with this, but that would be irrelevant. For the sake of balance, I responded that in it’s beginning what we now call Christianity was viewed as no different by folks who weren’t Christians. They were indeed, a small dissenting group of people who wandered around claiming their leader is God. Mormons were never fed to lions by the Romans for entertainment, but otherwise there are actually quite a number of parallels between the Mormons and the rest of Christianity. My co-worker didn’t care for these remarks and the conversation ended quickly. Apparently what’s good for the goose isn’t good for the… goose.

I’m currently taking a humanities class in which, as part of a recent assignment, I’m basically being asked to pretend I’m either Christian or Jewish. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say I’m not happy. The concept is just fuzzy enough that the school can get away with it, but the work is still clear. I think part of what’s so vile about this assignment, beyond pretending to be something I’m not, is that I have to pretend to promote and condone what I don’t agree with. Sugar on top? One of my co-students and team mate on this project is a middle-aged woman who is unapologetically Christian and when we were hashing out responsibilities for this project she was quick to point out that not only is Christianity the only religion on the planet that encompasses all others, but that the cross is the only religious symbol which is found in all other religions.

Jesus-Fucking-Christ… this is what I’m dealing with. Before this class is over, there may well be a scene because after allowing my toes to be stepped on a few times by the school’s curriculum and classmates’ remarks, I’m actually quite liable to tell a bitch to go to hell and slide her some hand-written directions.

So, the convsersation today… class work from last week… Now let’s back up quite a bit. Let’s revisit my teen years briefly.

For a short time, during my teens, I was the only Christian in my family. To say I was a monster for Jesus would probably be something of an understatement. My intentions were as noble as they come, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t also vile at their source. I’ll spare most of the details, because they amount to this: I was about as typical as it could get for being a zealous Christian teen. The only way it would have been worse is if my parents were Christian, too.

This business lasted a few years until I was around 17 or close to 18. It was just before 18 that I began makng it known to my church youth group that I found a lot of evidence that the Bible/Jesus/God didn’t condemn gays. I was doing this rather gently and secretly because I intended to work my way into a position to come out to them. However, the youth pastor decided to nip the whole thing in the bud(butt?) and called me to his home one evening.

Sitting in his library, he said it’d been brought to his attention that I was spreading “false doctrine.” I explained, as best I could for being neither an adult nor a Bible scholar, that I didn’t believe Christianity condemned gays. His next move was to asked, “Do you consider yourself a homosexual?” I answered in the affirmative. Upon receiving that answer, he assured me, “There’s no place in the youth group, or anywhere else in the church, for someone like you.”

Sitting on his couch alone, and virtually defenseless, I could do nothing by look toward my feet and begin to sob. In the years leading up to this moment, I had actually done more than plenty to distance myself from my family-for the sake of Jesus. And here, an actual man of god was dismissing me entirely. The following months brought the best that church could offer in “therapy,” which amount to nothing. I had already cried myself to sleep numerous nights because I didn’t understand why I am gay. I sought out hetero porn, thinking it might “stick” and change my inclinations. I had girlfriends. I prayed at home, hidden in my bedroom’s closet (irony, no!?!?), the most private place I knew… and I’d prayed down front at my church’s altar. Nothing-which I’m so very thankful for.

I know many good people. Very very dear people to me, who happen to be Christians. Many of these folks would claim people like those others “aren’t real Christians.” That’s simply not true, though. These Christians who are dear to me, I think exhibit the purest Christianity, but chances are great that the vast majority of all the other fellow Christians on this planet still say my old church is correct. In fact I know this to be true, even in my life today. It wasn’t enough that I was literally kicked out as a teen (I had to sign some paper, too, after being asked “one last time”), but now as an adult Christians are the leading reason for why I’m unable to marry the man I’ve dedicated the biggest chunk of my adult life to.

As disappointing as this is going to sound, and forgive me for sounding jaded/hurt/judgemental, I’m convinced that nearly everything Abrahamic is violent and destructive. Throughout world history, into today, and in many places in my own life this has been the truth of experience. When I consciously and conscientiously seek Brahman, and encounter most things Abrahamic, the “still small voice” within invariably chants, “Neti, Neti.”

Om Shanti