Convictions Without Courage: Would-Be Revolutionaries of the Religious Right

Every so often a prominent Christofascist will either warn of or call for a “revolution” in response to the advancement of LGBT+ equality, women's rights, immigrants' rights, or any positive social progress which offends them. Here's a clip of one of the latest calls/warnings, this time from Mat Staver, Chairman of Liberty Counsel and dean of Liberty University School of Law:

He envisions this so-called “revolution” as being akin to the American Revolution, but is careful to add the disclaimer at the end that he hopes it would be a peaceful revolution, though, wink wink, one never knows what will happen.

Fear-mongering is a tried and true tactic of the religious right, of course. It's been in their tool kit from day one, long before they hacked a weeping hole in the abdomen of politics and started fucking it for all they're worth. They have little reason to abandon this approach; it has proven effective for countless generations. Even when they trot out their newest favorite, playing the victim, there is a strong undercurrent of fear-mongering, if not an overcurrent.

Fear and loathing, indeed, appear to be their primary modes when interacting with and commenting upon the world at large. There are a plethora of reasons for this: they're effective ways to rile up their base for votes and money, they neatly plug in to their bizarre fondness for apocalyptic prophecy, and they make for great sound-bites and click-bait. Hysteria sells, so it's no wonder they start babbling about revolutions every time it occurs to them that civilized society is swiftly passing them by.

When your life is characterized by incessant extremism, it starts to seem rational after a while. This is why they can make the most ridiculous statements with straight faces; they are literally blind to their own lunacy. It would nearly be sad if they weren't legitimately dangerous.

And make no mistake, they are dangerous. For every bigoted fool who utters violent inanities on television or writes them in a blog, there are dozens even dumber who are willing to turn thoughts and words into actions. Mat Staver may not be a physically dangerous person in and of himself, but the unfocused halfwits who cling to his every word, many of them are. What the fringe right lacks in numbers, it makes up in rabid fervor. They fancy themselves modern Spartans, defending the gap against overwhelming odds. They know, within themselves, that the battle is lost, but they will go down fighting nonetheless, and their sole goal is to take as many decent, patriotic Americans down with them as possible.

Many of my fellow bloggers on the left make a point of showing their readers the revolutionary battle cries of our enemies, some to spur counter-action, some simply to publicize these statements in hopes of arousing disgust, and a precious few poke fun at these histrionic armchair soldiers. Those are all excellent motives, of course, useful, helpful, socially acceptable. They are righteous and good reactions.

But that ain't me. Not today, at least. For these would-be revolutionaries, I have two words:

Bring it.

And now, a few more words, because I'm a wordy fatherfucker.

Grab those guns. You know, the ones the government still hasn't taken from you yet? Go grab 'em. Slip into your finest Duck Dynasty camo. Gather all of your burly, non-cognitive buddies together. Hoist your rebel flag on the back of the pickup truck you plan to ride into battle, but pretend it's not emblematic of failure. Blare audio clips from Bryan Fischer, Tony Perkins, and Matt Barber on crackly, thirty-dollar Wal-Mart speakers to rouse and rally the troops. Get good and fired up, and then nut up and march (or, you know, trudge) to the battlefield.

No, I don't know where the battlefield is. You're the ones crying out for war, so that's your responsibility. Pick a target. You don't have to worry about thinking too much about it; most of the country is against you at this point, so the enemy truly is everywhere. Just go forth, brave, Christian soldiers, and spill some blood in the name of the Lord and Dead Jerry Falwell. (Probably not in that order.) This is a revolution, boys! Go prove you're real men! Real men don't sit around wringing their hands and talking, after all. Real men do stuff! Don't they? Your cause is righteous, isn't it? The Lord will protect and strengthen you, won't he?

Or maybe, just maybe, you're all a bunch of chickenshits. Maybe you already know that, outside of your overwrought echo chambers, you're a dying breed. Maybe you understand, at some primal level, that your worldview is fading, with more bigots dying each day than being born. Perhaps you lack the courage of your convictions, and prefer to sit comfortably in your intellectual ghettos rather than risk losing life and limb for your cause.

Because, make no mistake, even if you somehow muster the gumption to actually do anything beyond whining and griping, you will still lose. Women, LGBTs, racial and religious minorities, the poor, the downtrodden, we're survivors. Our continued presence in this world proves it. You've been trying to destroy us for years, and still we rise. You knock us down, and we stand once again. You try to put us in our place, and we are only emboldened. You assemble to vote down our rights and our dignity, and we take our rights anyway. We are not shrinking violets, taking what we're given and liking it; we are Warriors.

And you know it. And that is why you talk the talk but sit the walk. You fear us.

And if you would come against us, you should.

Blood-Sucking Freaks?: Sensationalism, LARP, and Jake Rush

Geekery is in fashion right now, what with big-budget comic book movies dominating the cinemas of the nation and fantasy epics like Game of Thrones capturing the public consciousness. We have entire television networks devoted to video games. Cosplayers become memes. Most people even know now that dice can have more than six sides. Being a geek is cool, and everyone wants to be one.

However, even in this era of geek chic there are certain subcultures within the geek community who remain maligned and misunderstood. Role-playing gamers, and particularly live-action role-playing (LARP) enthusiasts, are often consigned to being the butts of jokes told by non-geeks, and even fellow geeks. This truth has been thrust into the spotlight this week, with the revelation that Florida Congressional candidate Jake Rush, a Republican running as a “straight shooter within the law enforcement and legal communities,” is himself a LARPer.

Jake Rush, in character as Chazz Darling

Headlines referring to his “bizarre double life” as a “sexy vampire” have been de rigeur throughout the media reporting on the story. Rush is affiliated with a group called Mind's Eye Society, a gaming and charitable organization devoted to games from White Wolf Publishing, specifically their World of Darkness collection. World of Darkness is a collection of role-playing games featuring vampires, werewolves, mages, fairies, and other assorted mythological creatures, in modern and historical settings. Though it is primarily a table-top gaming system, it is also known for an extensive and enthusiastic sub-culture of LARP fans.

In LARP, players dress as their characters, use props and real-world settings, and employ acting and other theatrics to enhance their gaming experience. To that end, a typical LARP session for a World of Darkness game will typically feature players clad in leather and lace, corpse paint and corsets, and a plethora of other looks with a distinct gothic/industrial/fantasy bent. Knowing this, the pictures making the rounds showing Rush dolled up in black leather and novelty contact lenses as one of his characters, Chazz Darling, wouldn't be terribly shocking to the average person. The amusement appears to stem solely from the fact that Rush is a GOP candidate and a self-proclaimed “practicing Christian.”

Numerous commentators have accused Rush of hypocrisy, as though either his political or religious beliefs somehow preclude him from enjoying LARP games, vampires, leather, or...something. This is a patently nonsensical line of reasoning, to put it bluntly. Role-playing and, by extension, LARP makes no distinction where such factors are concerned. The entire purpose of role-playing, at the gaming table or in the gaming space, is to bring people together so that they can play at being someone else for a few hours and tell an interesting and exciting collaborative story. Anyone can join, anyone can play, and everyone can have a good time. Plenty of conservatives play and plenty of Christians play, though perhaps not many politicians do, I will concede.

Some have also taken issue with the controversial turns storylines can take in a World of Darkness campaign, specifically pointing to an online bulletin board post written by Rush in which his character expresses a desire to rape or invite the rape of the character of another player. Taken at face value, it is absolutely a shocking statement and I am not remotely surprised by the condemnation it has garnered, though the fault for that lies partially with those writers who neglected to mention that Rush was writing in-character.

Having been involved in several online role-playing groups for over a decade, I can attest that my characters were frequently guilty of words and actions which I, myself, would never engage in. I've written my own attempted murders, animal sacrifices, sexual seductions for selfish ends, and countless other unsavory and despicable acts, all in-character. A story needs a villain, after all, and villains are known for nasty deeds. To write a villain as a villain does not necessitate or imply that the writer has fantasies of doing such things. The only thing it means is that the player is portraying a villain as being villainous. Role-playing is, at its core, collaborative fiction writing.

This is not to say that Jake Rush warrants no criticism. A brief visit to his campaign site will tell anyone that he is anti-choice, anti-immigrant, and anti-Obamacare, a free market capitalist and a gun nut. I'm sure he has plenty more abhorrent positions to go along with those listed. Those positions, however, are not a reflection of the LARP community. He may well be a truly vile person, but it isn't because he occasionally likes to dress up as a vampire and play-act occult ceremonies.

I would encourage the media to take a step back from sensationalism and novelty at the expense of thousands of decent, upstanding gamers and, instead, dig into something meatier where Jake Rush is concerned. Click-baiting headlines, shoddy research, and “scandalous” photos are the norm of the day, but that does not make such practices superior to legitimate reporting and writing of substance. Picking on an underdog community to garner hits is both easy and low. We should all be better than that.

Bro, Do You Even Act?

No fems. No queens. Straight-acting. Masc only. If I wanted a woman, I'd be with a woman. Anyone who has spent 45 seconds on a gay dating site or app has seen disclaimers like these. I imagine that most guys barely even notice them at this point, they're so common.

Being happily coupled for over three years now, it's been quite some time since I've visited any of those sites, but I'm sure those phrases are as common as they ever were. In fact, thanks to sites like Douchebags of Grindr, I know they are. I find the whole thing a mite puzzling, honestly, but in a very un-puzzled way. I get it, after all. I used to think the same way, for a brief time, not because it was how I actually felt, but because I believed it was how I was supposed to think. That sort of thinking is pretty rife among the pre-out and babygay populations. Sadly, it's also a strong presence among people who have been out long enough to know better.

As long as I can remember, I've trod the line between what society calls “masculine” and “feminine.” In my youth, I tried to compensate for my feminine side by being aggressive, hard-nosed, and, yes, douchey. I was a drama nerd, hated sports, played in the school band, and had some frighteningly expressive hands. I can't say I ever tried to hide those parts of me, because I certainly didn't. Instead, I tried to distract from them, exaggerating my more testosterone-fueled attributes in hopes I would be considered more socially acceptable.

For some, that simply isn't enough effort.

Some guys want hard bodies, trendy facial hair, wrists that are encased in invisible splints, and flannel. They want you to look and act like a lumberjack or an auto mechanic or a cowboy or whatever masculine drag they personally favor. And honestly, there's nothing wrong with that. It isn't a sin to have a type; most people do, to some degree.

The problem arises when your type goes from being a mere preference to being an ideal. When you begin to assume that your type is the gold standard, and you use that attitude to belittle and wound others, that's when you've gone off the rails. The LGBT+ community is incredibly diverse, encompassing countless varieties of people under the rainbow umbrella. I would even go so far as to argue that it's the femme fellas and butch gals who are holding it up for us. Our history has shown that, without them, we would not be nearly as far along as we are today. The gender rebels were and are the pioneers, driving the movement into the future.

Take Stonewall, just for one example, albeit one of the most important ones in our history as a people. Who were the first to stand up against the police that night? Transmen and transwomen, drag queens and butch lesbians, the very people who were most at risk and had the most to lose. Dykes and sissies, they were the heroes and heroines of the riots. Imagine living in a world where simply living your life in the way that was most comfortable for you was grounds for arrest, often accompanied by violence, which is sadly still a fact of life in many parts of the world. Imagine the intestinal fortitude required to live your reality anyway, in the face of all of society's recriminations. Ask the typical “straight-acting” guy on Grindr if he'd have had the balls to put on a wig and heels and can-can in front of advancing riot police. He probably couldn't even walk in heels, much less dance in them, much less fight in them.

It takes a lot of effort. but very little courage or vision, to be “straight-acting” in this world, to live up to society's expectations of what makes a man or a woman. Speaking from my own experience, it's an exhausting pursuit, constantly policing one's behavior. And to what end? To be liked by people who value such things? People who perhaps wouldn't like you if you elected to be yourself? What good are they anyway?

As always, I reiterate, like what you like. Pursue those who appeal to you, for whatever reason. Just don't be a douche about it. No one likes a douche except other douches.

As for me, I'm going to continue loving and celebrating the gender rebels. They're among the bravest and strongest people I've known, without question. Given the choice of someone who is who they are versus someone who is “acting” like someone else, I will opt for the former, every time. Most do, hookup sites notwithstanding.

Bless the femme men, the butch ladies, the genderfuckers, the androgynes, the drag queens and kings, and especially the entire transgender community. Bless all the misfits of the world, for you are my people. If not for our non-conformist forebears, there's no telling how far behind we'd be today.

More Than a Thousand Words (Sexy Pic Included)

[Note: I'm going to be doing some criticizing of my own community in this piece. Some of you will be glad for it. Some of you will be offended for various reasons and accuse me of over-generalizing. Some of you will have the overwhelming compulsion to offer a defense for poor behavior, your own or others'. Some of you won't even finish reading before you give up fighting the urge to weigh in on the subject. I encourage you to stifle that urge and not merely read this, but absorb it and engage it honestly in your own mind before you say something worthy of ridicule.  Also, yes, this is pretty long.  Sorry/not sorry.]

Ask folks for their opinions on someone's physical appearance and you will never be left wanting for glowing adjectives and venomous epithets. We live in a visually-oriented society, and appearances hold an awful lot of meaning for an awful lot of people. The LGBT+ community is certainly no exception to this rule and, in many ways, may be the very embodiment of it.

Speaking as a white, gay, cisgender male, I'm pretty sure that those who are most like me in those regards are among the most egregious offenders where looksism is concerned. Gay men as a community are, by and large, a bit of a hot mess at times when it comes to courtesy and big picture thinking. This certainly doesn't let the Ls, the Bs, and the Ts off the hook, but by and large, yes, we're the worst. Whether it's personal ads extolling the imagined virtues of people who aren't “fats, femmes, or chocolate/rice/tacos/insert food-based ethnic slur here,” or a political discussion which devolves into seeing who can crack the best joke about Chris Christie's weight, anyone could be forgiven for thinking that we gay men love to tear others, and one another, down as a matter of course.

It would take a weighty tome to break down the myriad reasons for this behavior, and though I'm admittedly long-winded, I'm not going to write that book today. I will say that I think the pecking order concept plays a huge role in this phenomenon. If you are interested in a more thorough exploration of this concept, Howard Bloom does an excellent job of breaking it down in his book The Lucifer Principle, which I highly recommend. In essence, the idea is that everyone has an innate desire, if not an outright need, to feel that they are better than someone, anyone, else.

Traditionally marginalized groups are often, seemingly paradoxically, the most egregious offenders when it comes to establishing and enforcing social hierarchies. One might think such people would and should know better, considering their first-hand knowledge of the pain and damage such marginalization causes. Yet, often, the justification amounts to little more than “what goes around, comes around.” After all, when you spend a large portion of your time under someone's heel, sometimes it feels good to do a little stepping of your own. We stratify our communities in order to more easily discern our roles and positions, and we are always looking for ways to ascend another rung on the ladder.

I believe there's also more than a little “misery loves company” at play here. All of us have moments (at the very least) of insecurity with our looks. Maybe we wish we were a bit thinner, a bit more muscular, had better bone structure, whatever. There isn't a person reading this who hasn't engaged in some degree of fretting at their reflection at some point. Some people are able to shrug off the doubts and get on with living. Some people obsess over their perceived flaws and build their entire image around downplaying them. And some, some strive to inflate their own egos to serve as a protective buffer against these insecurities, by attacking and belittling the imperfections of others as a way to distract from their own.

We see this attitude manifest in different ways, depending on the situation, but it's a rare situation in which someone, somewhere, cannot shoehorn it in. Of course, we see it in political discussions, when someone dismisses Maggie Gallagher or Chris Christie for being overweight, rather than attacking their bigoted and duplicitous ideas. We certainly see it in many of our social circles, which are often so closed-off that we label them by type, be they bears, twinks, or what have you. We hear a lot of “How did he land him?” We certainly see it in our consumption and evaluation of celebrity, judging imperfect “beach bodies” and conjecturing on which starlets have eating disorders. We even see it in our interactions with our trans brothers and sisters, as when some may lament that so-and-so is “missing the right parts” but is otherwise considered attractive. Within the gay male community, our attitudes about appearances are a microcosmic reflection of society at large. We may not have invented shade (debatable), but we certainly perfected it.

All of this is not to fault anyone for making such judgments. As we all have our insecurities, so do we all partake of judgment on occasion. It's a rare person, indeed, who gives no consideration to physical attraction when evaluating a potential romantic partner, after all. The problem arises when we see people as nothing more than a collection of physical traits, though, and subsequently decide their value to us on that basis, particularly outside the context of the pursuit of romance. Anytime we dismiss another person outright due to physical criteria, we are, in effect, denying their very humanity. They cease to be a person in our eyes, and become a mere object, worthy of praise or ridicule depending on what we value. This is what the word “objectification” means, and considering the wide range of tastes people have, such criteria are, essentially, wholly arbitrary.

I'm not above using myself as an illustration, literally, even if it means a certain percentage of readers will subsequently stop reading and write me off as a bitter queen with a chip on his shoulder. This is what I look like, mostly unclothed:

I choose to use my own picture here because I'm not willing to shine this sort of spotlight on someone who may not want me to, and because I can handle slurs and criticism better than many can. I'm not fishing for compliments or scorn. I don't want or need pity, and no, I don't think sharing this picture is particularly brave, or at least it shouldn't be. This is merely for illustrative purposes. That's out of the way now, so you don't need to speculate about any of that in the comments. Let us continue.

Some people are troubled by this picture. They find it aesthetically unpleasing for various reasons. My stomach is too large, my pecs are too flabby, my arms aren't muscular enough, my underwear is too tight, I have stretch marks. I'm too fat and old to be a twink, not hairy enough to be a bear, not cut enough for the gym crowd and its admirers, and, interestingly enough, not fat enough for many chubby chasers. Everyone, it seems, finds something to complain about. (Hint: That doesn't just apply to me; you're not safe, either.)

This unretouched picture may seem to tell you a lot about me: I like to eat, I don't exercise a whole lot, and I'm a Captain America fan. It may well be worth a thousand words, but what it doesn't tell you about me could fill a book or ten. It doesn't tell you, for instance, that I have health issues, unrelated to my weight, which have inhibited my mobility since I was twelve years old. It doesn't tell you that I skipped the second grade because I was academically advanced, or that I repeated the fifth grade because my maturity had not caught up with my intellect. It doesn't tell you that my signature colors are blue and silver, or that I enjoy folk music and black metal. It doesn't tell you that I'm an introvert who tends to enjoy the company of animals more than people. It doesn't tell you that I've been with my current boyfriend for over three years now, and that I love him with every fiber of my being. Pictures can't tell the whole story, no matter who you are. They cannot capture a person's internal life, their feelings, their hopes, their history.

I've been called every name in the book, withstood every slight and insult you could think of, and been rejected more times than I could begin to recall. I'm not the sort of guy who catches eyes when I go out, unless my occasionally outlandish fashion sense counts. I've never had a drink bought for me at a bar, much less been picked up. When I hit the dance floor, it's not rare for guys to move away lest people think they're dancing with me. I have been regarded as a de facto eunuch by friends, frenemies, and strangers alike, completely non-sexual in their eyes. I've dated guys who wouldn't even hold my hand in public, and guys who would only call me their boyfriend when we were alone.

These are the things you get used to when you're not conventionally attractive. Many people, in time, come to expect such treatment. Too few learn not to. It took me over a decade to even begin my journey out of resignation, and believe me, the gay community at large had no hand in that. When you're chubby, or pimply, or very thin, or older, or disabled, or a person of color, you tend to get pushed aside in favor of “the pretty people,” white, athletic-to-muscular build, easy on the eyes, fairly masculine in appearance and mannerism. It often feels as if the gay community would prefer you simply weren't there in the first place, a major blow to those of us who may have hoped that coming out would grant us some form of unconditional acceptance for the first time in our lives.

My boyfriend would be considered conventionally attractive by most, well above average by many (and no, I'm not putting a pic of him here). He's loathe to admit it, but he's gorgeous, and not merely in my eyes. He's a blond-haired and blue-eyed demi-twink, tattooed, and wouldn't look out of place in a fashion ad or on the cover of a porno movie. Hardly a day passes when he doesn't receive praise and attention for his looks. He was recently invited to attend an LGBT+ charity event solely because of his age (he's younger than me) and appearance. By most anyone's estimation, he's a major prize and I got lucky when I landed him. Most of the people who say that, though, don't truly know either of us, and they surely don't know how much it bothers him. He doesn't even like me to point out these things, and I'm sure to get a wee scolding for doing so, but his experience in the gay male community serves as the perfect counterpoint to my own.

Oh, you thought this was all about how hard it is out there for guys like me? News flash, kids: it's hard out there for everyone. You think it might be nice to be seen as attractive, to get all kinds of attention from the fellas? Try to imagine living in a world where you can never really be sure if people genuinely like you as a person, or if they just want to get into your pants. He's received messages online inviting him to have an assortment of sex acts performed on him. He's been hounded by men who want his sexual attentions, men who know he's in a long-term, monogamous relationship and don't care. Generally, he's pretty good at taking such incidents in stride, but sometimes, when he declines someone's offer, they take offense. They look at people who look like him as objects for their own sexual gratification, and get upset when he asserts his personhood. The moment they can't get what they want from him, they decide that he's just another arrogant, self-involved twink. They cannot fathom that he loves me and is loyal to me and our relationship. He isn't a person to them, he's an image.

I share the two sides of this coin because they underline my central point: we all deal with our share of body policing, and though it may manifest in different ways, it is always rooted in some sort of insecurity on the part of the person doing it. Some people choose to be nasty and judgmental because it's easier than allowing themselves to be open and vulnerable. Sometimes, it's just intellectual laziness. Sometimes they do it fit in with a crowd they may feel they don't deserve to run with. Whatever form these attitudes take, whatever the secondary motivation, I am convinced that the root lies in that insecurity. I'm not blaming anyone for it. It's understandable, living in a world that is often not incredibly welcoming to us. As Whitney told us, it's not right, but it's okay.

So here's my call to action, if you will: take a self-inventory. Look at your reflection in the mirror, and make a list, mental, on paper, however, of all the features you like. Then, throw it away, because none of that actually matters. Take a second inventory, instead, listing your positive traits which have nothing to do with what you look like, because that is who you truly are. A body is a body, and they'll all break down and sag and wrinkle sooner or later, if they haven't already. You are not your body.

Repeat after me: I am not my body. He is not his body. She is not her body. Ze is not ze's body.

It took me many, many years to get to the level of self-acceptance and self-love I have now. My journey to this place could span several articles in its own right, and perhaps one day it shall. I can say that the gay community, as it were, played no role in it beyond hindering my progress, and that I hope that will change one day. If it is to change, though, let it start with you.

It may not take the first time. It may not take the first dozen or hundred times, but eventually, I hope you will come to love yourself on your own terms. I also hope you will learn to be mindful in your interactions with others, and strive to avoid language which belittles, shames, and dehumanizes. You'll mess up; we all do sometimes. But just try, and keep trying. Remember that we all share in the same humanity. Remember that it takes more than a thousand words to sum up a person. I'm not asking you to date anyone you're not attracted to. I'm not even asking you to love, or even like, everyone in the LGBT+ community. But don't you think it would be nice if, in an often hostile and unwelcoming world, we at least made some room at the table for everyone? After all, we're a lot stronger together.