Small Towns, Not Small Minds: Occupy Timmies in Blenheim, ON

In the spirit of protecting hard-earned LGBT rights in Canada, I knew I had to write this post tonight. I tend to avoid political posts on Cute, Queer, Canadian due to one simple principle: queer ladies ought to have a space to revel in the utter loveliness of their orientation. I built this blog around the celebration of talented, energetic, and absolute beautiful of women, whether queer or straight, and I knew it helped me immensely as I found my own path out of the closet. I know of numerous blogs and websites that document the injustices committed against queer people—I, on the other hand, wanted to create a positive space in which ladies (and the occasional gent, of course) could remind themselves of the happiness that comes from living an honest life. Why not revel in one's difference?

I found my perspective shifted after watching a recent rant penned by none other than Rick Mercer—though his satirical news broadcast pokes fun at Canada's political landscape (and also highlights the fun-loving nature of the average Canadian), his rants have a knack for hitting home. On this week's episode of the Rick Mercer Report, he discussed the recent suicide of Jamie Hubley, a fifteen-year-old student who was depressed and also happened to be gay:

"We have to make it better now. That's every single one of us—every teacher, every student, every adult has to step up to the plate. And that's gay adults, too, because I know gay cops, soldiers, athletes, cabinet ministers—a lot of us do—but the problem is, adults, we don't need role models—kids do."

Rick Mercer is a fierce one, and I have never seen him as fired up in a rant before. I know I tend to get a bit soft sitting here in a Canadian suburb, assuming prejudice and anti-queer bullying exists outside of our borders. I suppose that's the reason an e-mail I received earlier this week hit so close to home.

Back in September, Riley Duckworth (25) and Patricia Pattenden (23) kissed outside of a Tim Hortons location in Blenheim, ON. Another customer complained to the manager, and the couple was asked to leave. The complainant, Rev. Eric Revie of the local Pentecostal church, claims he thought the couple was heterosexual and believed their public displays of affection had crossed the line—however, Duckworth and Pattenden report that the manager threatened to call the police on them if the couple did not leave the premises immediately.

Tim Hortons' head office has since issued an apology over the incident, though their statement offers a rather backhanded, insensitive approach (note: bolding added for emphasis) :

“Thank you so much for the opportunity to respond. We apologize if the two guests were offended by the misunderstanding that occurred at our Blenheim restaurant last month on behalf of the owners and management. It was not their intention. Tim Hortons and its restaurant owners have always welcomed all families and communities to their restaurants and will continue to do so. It was not the manager’s intention to offend or target anyone based on their sexual orientation. The guests’ behaviour went beyond public displays of affection and was making other guests feel uncomfortable. The management has apologized to Riley and Patricia and invite them back to their restaurant.”

***

Tomorrow (Thursday, October 27) at 4 PM, residents of Blenheim, ON, will take to the streets and protest outside their local Tim Hortons franchise at 79 Talbot St. West. Once again, Canadians will demonstrate that small towns do not equate to small minds when it comes to LGBT rights—lend your support and pass the word forward!

Born this Way—Even if the Photos Lie

I know everyone and their queer aunt has landed on the Born This Way photo blog/essay in the last month now, but I wanted to toss in a thought or two on the subject for the record (since that's what us nosy bloggettes are notorious for).

Once a queer kid has taken the steps to accept herself, or to start sharing her real self to others, one of the greatest moments beyond the closet door arrives in the form of retrospection—we go back to excavate the photo albums for evidence of the baby gays we were. More often than not, we stumble across those blatant, obvious photos screaming out our proto-queerness, and we marvel over the fact our loved ones were somehow shocked when we chose to come out.

O'Neill sent me this link a few weeks ago, and I cannot stop poring over the personal stories and the adorable photos that queers across the Internet have submitted. I find it overwhelming (in the awesome sense) to see photos ranging across the twentieth-century. It's fascinating to read the accounts of queer people growing up throughout different decades among various cultural backgrounds. Despite our differences, we all share that one common experience of emerging from our own fears and insecurities to finally embrace that tiny version of ourselves from so long ago. Born This Way achieved the one goal I wished to see—a space where queer-identified people of all ages could gather, reminisce, and find our similarities despite the generation gaps.

Brilliant! Enlightenment, at last!

Of course, the next morning, I ran to the photo albums to find pictures of me in full baby dyke regalia, but—

I'll be damned.

I discovered I remembered life a lil' differently from the photos populating our albums. Most of the shots taken of Lil' Miz Moffatt were from family gatherings which meant I was decked out in full-on party dresses for the occasion. I come from a British-Scottish-Newfoundlander background, and I can tell you it's a traditional scene when it comes to gender norms. Now, of course, we've all relaxed a touch with age, but we were not exempt from formal attire as kiddies. And, having an older sister guaranteed girly hand-me-downs in the dozens…

Of course, I know assuming stereotypes tends to be more hurtful than helpful—I know of a large contingent of queer femmes who would be rightly pissed at the assumption that butch little girl = queer (and I know of some butch straight gals who would take offence to being stereotyped, too). But, when I remember the clothes I loved wearing as a child, I know for a fact it revolved around overalls and baseball tees.

So…where are those shots?

A few exist, but the overwhelming image skews me toward the opposite end of the spectrum.

Regardless of the strange absence of the everyday shots, I'll still take to skimming through the albums to get that shot of the baby dyke I was. In the meantime, I suggest you check out Born This Way if you haven't already—it's a guaranteed smile waiting to happen.

Queer Questions Straight Talk by Abby Dees

Provocation -- a fickle state, indeed. I was exploring the recent additions to the suburban library's queer books section when this title popped up. How on Earth could a queer person such as myself resist the absolute dread induced from the book's title/subtitle?:

Queer Questions Straight Talk: 108 Frank & Provocative Questions it's OK to Ask Your Lesbian, Gay or Bisexual Loved One.

…Ooh.

Such potential to go horribly awry.

As the subtitle suggests, the book targets the trembling, fear-ridden straight masses who cannot fathom where to start discussing queer issues with real, live queer people. Questions range across delightful Sunday tea topics including identity, coming out, stereotypes, marriage and relationships, homophobia and politics, religion, and sex. Readers will revel in the awkward, often ill-informed questions listed within, and will also adopt the strange identifier, LesBiGay, to refer to their now-aliented loved one.

… Alright, a touch harsh. I will retract the claws. Despite the writhing discomfort I felt while trying to picture friends and family asking these questions, I admit that Abby Dees had some excellent write-ups between those prompts. Dees is a civil rights attorney with twenty-five years of experience protecting queer rights in America. Queer Questions Straight Talk came from an honourable place, one where straight allies (or parents struggling to accept their out children) could empower themselves enough to launch meaningful conversations with the queer kids around town. Teens would likely benefit the most from this book, though the text implies parents of queer teens might want to give this a once-over.

Now, that being said, if a loved one were to have asked me these questions when I was a young'un, I'd have been mortified clean through to my 40s.

For example:

• "Could I have done anything to keep you from being LesBiGay? Is there anything I can do about it now?" (11)
• "Do you have to tell everyone? Do I have to tell everyone too?" (21)
• "Are there any real lesbians like the ones on the L Word?" (33)
• "Are lesbians angry at men? Are gay men angry at women? Are bi people angry at anyone?" (34)
• "How can I make sure LesBiGay people don't hit on me?" (38)
• "Do you believe you can be LesBiGay and go to Heaven?" (70)

I'll have to save these gems for our next family gathering, methinks. Imagine it: the grandparents all gathered around with their dainty teacups asking, "Honestly, don't you miss the 'equipment' of the opposite sex? Is that why some people are bi?" (88).

*Initiate the violins from Psycho*

Again, on the other hand, there are some valuable questions buried in here if you can suppress the initial "make-it-stop-oh-god-make-it-all-stop" reaction.

Some insightful additions include:

• "What kinds of things go through your mind when you consider coming out to someone? Are you ever nervous, excited, afraid?" (20)
• "Is there anyone you haven't told yet but would like to? What's stopping you?" (23)
• "Are there different issues that come up in LesBiGay relationships than in straight relationships?" (46)
• "What's one thing I could do to support you – to be an ally?" (60)

In particular, I think that last question is brilliant. I would have loved to have someone ask me that as a kid just figuring herself out. Rather than catering to shock-and-awe prompts or political brawls, why not frame questions in a positive, re-affirming light?

Overall, the book often felt like a permission slip for invasive questioning, and I wonder how much benefit a queer person could derive from it. I agree, ice breakers can be excellent in the coming out process, but respect for a loved one (whether queer or straight) trumps the questions written here.

Sunday Ponderings and Post Ideas

Another Sunday flooded with random ponderings and clouded thoughtscapes around these parts...

I admit, the ideas are half-formed at best. I blame the stretch of cold weather to come this week and the random bits of snow we've collected here in Suburbs. I might not be as winter-weary as the masses, but the darker nights are adding up, methinks. And, of course, it happens to be Sunday night which = a new week to mull over.

Shall we point form? Yes? Oh, heck yes:

• Novel I received the axe this weekend on the school schedule. Tough call, that one -- the three publishing certificate courses came with heavier workloads than I anticipated (read: one assignment per week for the online course alone.) Man, what a diverse mix of writers I've had to sacrifice, though. Profit-and-loss sheets are hijacking my time, so creative endeavors will have to be shuffled aside for the moment.
• I believe I am doomed to a one-date maximum, forevermore. Can't seem to get past the first hurdle. This time around: mismatched schedules. Nothing worse than the right person at the wrong time, hmm?
• Am pondering my position as The Only Queer in the Family again. Having a niece/nephew on the horizon has brought up issues relating to lessons for New Baby vs. my identity. I'm debating if I ought to make that the subject of a post...

On a positive note, dropping Novel I will free some time for a renewed interest in queer blogging. I have a few topics stored away, and I think it's about darn time I write 'em out, hmm?

Bi and the Man Booker Prize

The Book Awards Reading List progresses onward -- as of tonight, I can cross another title off the ever-expanding collection of Canadian and Commonwealth titles on the docket. Quite the all-consuming project, not gonna lie. Of course, as with most major literary book awards, readers are bound to stumble across portrayals of queer people. We appear in both main roles and supporting appearances in the novels of both straight and queer writers alike. In this instance, the latest book scratched from the list dredges up some disconcerting depictions of bi-identified people, and the nature of their sexual preferences.

The reason I mention this tonight stems from the fact the novel in question appeared on the shortlist for the 2010 Man Booker Prize, the most prestigious Commonwealth fiction award in the literary world. Its purse totals a staggering £50,000 (or approximately $100,000 Canadian), and guaranteed inflation for sales throughout Commonwealth countries. So, um, its kind of important.

And here we are with troublesome portrayals of both bi men and women in a text to make the final round of judging.

The Book:

Damon Galgut's In A Strange Room

(Emblem; McClelland & Stewart)

If ever a reader needed a reason to never travel again, this book provides three. One young man (who shares the same name as the author) embarks on three journeys across the globe, sharing his Spartan traveling arrangements with a host of different characters. Galgut establishes a dark tone to the open road, one structured around transience, the overwhelming reliance on strangers, and the constant oppression of death in unfamiliar surroundings.

Mmm, cheery content, I know. We are in the territory of book awards, now. The writer with the most scars wins.

Each of the three journeys do not always end in enlightenment as most other travel narratives do. We are treated to a surreal, often disturbing odyssey spanning the whole of Africa, and parts of Greece and India over the course of the three novellas. In fact, the young man often finds himself further alienated from reality after spending months in the hot distance from his home in South Africa. However, the road draws him into numerous entanglements with bi characters I found problematic for a number of reasons.

One: The Follower

Our Narrator meets a brooding, long-haired German (named Reiner) in Greece which leads to a later trip through Africa on foot. Sexual tension abounds. Through a side comment, the reader discovers the Narrator is having gent problems, though sexual politics are never discussed. The German increases his overbearing, self-masochistic road behaviours as their trek progresses, causing both men to fall out with one another (as in, the Narrator leaves our German companion stranded in the mountains somewhere).

Reiner, for all intensive purposes, is a bi man. His motivation to explore Greece is based on his decaying relationship with a woman back in Germany. Funny enough, our Narrator is there because of boy troubles. On more than one occasion, Reiner attempts to seduce the Narrator (which the Narrator is receptive to, though scared as hell of). When the passes fail, Reiner sleeps with a female escort in a tepid sauna.... and then tries to seduce the Narrator again. Wait, what? Reiner explains his indiscriminate sexual appetites as a necessary release form for his, um, stress release.

Did I also mention this dude brushes his long, flowing hair for half an hour each morning, and possesses all financial power over the Narrator?

Reiner is a strange combination of oppressive meets preening narcissist, and the Narrator's abandonment of this dude feels oh-so-right in the end. Hmm, troubled representation, indeed. Reiner is often presented as an over-sexed, self-absorbed man who desires at all costs to subjugate all that is the Narrator. When evidence of his bisexuality surfaces, the tale begins to spin against Reiner, and Galgut takes great patience tallying the increasing number of injustices imposed on the Narrator once the two men leave the comforts of city life for the rigours of the road. And his status as a bi-leaning man is a central part of this new depiction.

Three: The Guardian

The Narrator returns to India with a close friend, Anna, who ends up being a whole bucketful of horrible. In fact, the disgust coaxed out of the reader would cause that bucket to overflow in crashing waves at times.

To take stock:

• Anna is in a relationship with a woman back home in South Africa.
• After a couple days on the road, Anna admits she wants to be in a relationship with a man.
• Anna and her partner have been together for eight years.
• Anna offers to sleep with the Narrator. He declines, disgusted.
• Anna meets a Frenchman named Jean, who she obsesses over and wants to run away with and have lots of babies with.
• We discover Anna is bipolar with a generous helping of psychosis to balance things out.
• Anna swallows 200 tranquilizers and 50 sleeping pills when the Narrator is out of their hotel room. In a suicide note, she breaks up with her partner.
• The Narrator, with the help of three strangers at their hotel, pulls Anna back from the grave.
• The Narrator discovers the motivation behind Anna's vacation was her bid for an unmonitored suicide. She was fine with her friend incurring the blame for her death.
• Anna rants at them and belittles the group from her hospital beds for their efforts to help her.
• The Narrator calls Anna's partner and has to admit to all that's transpired, including Anna's affair with the Frenchman. Anna's partner knew an affair with a man was coming, and decides to stick with the delirious, suicidal Anna anyway.

....... *Sigh* When the novella ended, I had no remorse for this woman. None. She was horrible from start to finish. Her sexuality is framed as a conscious, superficial choice, especially when the Narrator addresses Anna's initial motivation to date a woman. Odd, I never thought of an eight-year relationship counting as a fling. Oh, I guess that's what it's called when it's same-sex. Silly me.

**

Oh, literature. Oh, Man Booker Prize. Oh, Damon Galgut. I think the bi kids out there deserve a whole lot better than monstrous stereotypes in award-nominated, literary fiction.