Florida Agenda

By Cliff Dunn

It is a function, I think, of getting older, that one’s stream of consciousness occasionally overflows the levees, and a conversation you are having today quickly melds in your right-brain with one you had 20 years ago. This was precisely the case this week, when a discussion I was having about coming out shifted my memory back two decades, to a conversation I had with my friend, Shane Gunderson, longtime advocate and activist for the homeless, the incarcerated, and for LGBT rights. Precisely 20 years ago, Shane and I served on the Central Committee for the Florida Young Democrats, and during our 1992 state convention at the Bahia Mar in Fort Lauderdale— sometime between long island ice teas and tequila shots (hey, we were in our 20s)—we came around to discussing the phenomenon of “outing” gay celebrities against their will.

I recall being vehement in opposing the idea of breaching someone’s privacy, in order to make a point about social transparency and to strike a blow for civil rights. I don’t want to put words into Shane’s mouth, especially after such a long passage of time, but I remember his appeal to a “greater good” that could be accomplished by public awareness of the sexual orientation of movie stars, musical performers, athletes, and others celebrities.

Now, mind you, this was in 1992. The world looked a lot different to me then than it does now. But those superficial differences—which wouldn’t gain the notice of the Grand Canyon, were it to care about such things—are really only skin deep.

Although I think the world is a better place for LGBT persons today than it was then, we still have a long way to go. That summer of my conversation with Shane, Matthew Shepard was still 15 years old, full of wonder and the promise of a life that would be cut tragically short a little less than six years later. Is the world better for me than it was for Matt Shepard? Yes. Was his individual world much different from that of other young gays who struggle today for acceptance and the right to enjoy their full measure of civil rights? I’m not so certain.

Although the clownish Fred Phelps is a source of embarrassment and ridicule—even among those who agree with the context of his message, if not its delivery—we still must contend with such moronicisms as the nameless—and tasteless—L.A. preacher who heckled Gay Pride marchers last month, yelling “The penis doesn’t belong in the anus,” and “Stop eating your poo-poo.”

I can chuckle at the absurdity of it all, from the safety of my soapbox here in the gayest gay village of them all—until I remember that this idiot-of-the-cloth is using the same hyperbolic language that pastors in African nations use to whip up the tribes (so to speak) against LGBT persons. The difference, of course, between Rev. Moron (U.S.) and Rev. Moron (Uganda) is that you and I can drown our delicate sensibilities at Matty’s or Bill’s, while the reality on the ground for Africans is— horrifically—different. To say that “Matthew Shepard Lives” is to very accurately portray the daily dangers with which LGBT persons live in Africa, the continent that birthed us all.

One doesn’t need to travel to the Dark Continent to hear this kind of bigotry and hatred spouted at an unsuspecting audience. Recall the case of North Carolina pastor Sean Harris, who advised, “Dads, the second you see your son dropping the limp wrist, you walk over there and crack that wrist. Man up. Give him a good punch. Ok?” This is 2012, not 1992, but the vitriol is still real. You would think that Matt Shepard had never lived. Or died.

I’m not certain I’ve gotten any less squeamish in the intervening years about outing someone—celebrity or otherwise—against their will. But I know now what Shane knew then: In the big picture, and for the “greater good,” Anderson Cooper coming out last week will add to the lasting impact of the way society at large views LGBT persons. Every person who doesn’t come out sends a message that there is something inherently wrong with being who—and what— we are. I cannot help but wonder if the hypothetical coming out during the 1970s, 1980s, or 1990s of that era’s biggest closeted names might not have had a profound impact on a future we now view as the past.

Matthew Shepard might wonder the same thing.

By Christian Alexander

I was raised with faith – Roman Catholicism that is. When I was figuring out my sexuality, I was lead to believe I was going to burn in hell before I even got out of bed for having desires. Back then, they weren’t even desires – hell, I was 8 or 9 years old. Do you even have urges at that age? I just knew I was different from the rest of the small pack of students I was allowed to play with. The boys played their sports games with the other boys at recess, whereas I choose to play with the girls. What games we played, I do not recall. I just knew I was more comfortable with them than I was with the boys who seemed (forgive me Sister Eileen) hell bent on winning.

My eighth grade graduation was a turning point of sorts. No more nuns, no more priests, no more going to church every Sunday to go through the motions of an hour-long Mass of sitting, standing and kneeling. It was June and in 1986 fashion (before I appreciated what fashion was), I didn’t want to graduate in the typical blue blazer and plaid tie. I forced my Mother’s hand and picked out a suit more appropriate for the day – a la Don Johnson on Miami Vice. White pants, white lace up Capezio shoes, pastel colored shirt, and a stop sign red jacket to tie it all together. I had been to my Mother’s hairdresser that day and he Aqua-Netted my hair into a pre-Donald Trump do guaranteed not to move even through a hurricane.

Suffice it to say, I stood out like a Pink Flamingo at a Pigeon contest receiving my diploma. The girls thought I was awesome, the boys were jealous, and I couldn’t see any of it because I refused to where my Coke-bottle glasses as they would ruin my new look.

To the dismay of the Nuns, curious looks from other parents and stares from my school mates, I proudly walked up to receive my graduation certificate.

High school began in June of that year as was the custom and I found myself in a completely different world. My parents, long since divorced, could not agree to send me to another private school, so I found myself among the masses of teenagers who weren’t sure what was going on or where they were supposed to be, myself among them.  Gym class proved my breaking point.

We were supposed to choose what we wanted to take, and there was quite a variety. But no matter which I choose, I still ended up in a locker room with the other boys changing and showering. I felt extremely uncomfortable, yet I still wasn’t completely sure why. I just knew that I should not be in a room full of naked and half-naked boys bantering about who was the best hitter or kicker or whatever, when all my eyes seemed to do was glance towards their mid-sections and feel embarrassed because of it. Shortly thereafter, I ditched gym class altogether, having a family friend who happened to be a doctor write notes for me, excusing me from the rest of the classes. This same doctor, along with the help of an over worked secretary
in the Principal’s office, kept me out of gym class through the remainder of my years in high school. They offered me swimming; I quickly produced a note saying I was allergic to chlorine. They offered me softball; I got a note from Dr. Magic saying it was bad for my back.  The secretary I worked for loved it, I did her job in place of gym class and she got to take lots of coffee breaks. In doing so, I was able to divert my (I then thought) misplaced feeling for certain boys whom, shall we say, exceeded the others in the locker room and not necessarily in gym class.

This went on until graduation, (which I achieved with honors), and it wasn’t until years later, I began to question the FAITH I had been reared to know. If I was GAY, I’d burn in hell before I woke up. Had I chosen the path that had been laid before me, I probably would have married the one girl who had given me a “hickey” before I was 14. As the sands drift down to 40, I find myself wondering which path would have been better… a life of perfect lies, or my life of imperfect appearances.

Which path would you have chosen?

Until we meet again, Christian

Photo: Johnny Weir Courtesy- A Socialite Life

NEW YORK – In the least surprising news ever, Olympic figure skater Johnny Weir has come out the closet in his soon to be published book, “Welcome to my World.” “

I’m not ashamed to be me,” Weir wrote in the novel. “More than anyone else I know, I love my life and accept myself. What’s wrong with being unique? I am proud of everything that I am and will become.”

Weir is a three-time U.S. skating champion, and one of the most brash and controversial figures in the history of the sport that is typically known more for its performers grace than their personalities.

During the 2010 Olympic games in Vancouver, a French sports broadcaster had questioned Weir’s masculinity on air, but at the time Weir refused to answer any questions about his sexuality.

He is now saying that he was never in the closet.

“By puberty, I knew that I was gay,” he wrote. “But I didn’t worry about it much. As a serious skater, I was way too busy.”

Helping Parents Help Their LGBT Children

(PHOTO: Frey family: Melanie, Jonathan, Mark and Alexa.)

by Bob Kecskemety

It’s a story that you hear about more and more in today’s enlightened era of MTV: a child comes out to his or her parents that they are gay or lesbian.

Unfortunately, too often you also hear that the reaction of the parents is to either put their child through homosexual “reparative therapy” or the family disowns the child and kicks them out of the house.

When Jonathan Frey, 18, came out to his parents two years ago, just the opposite happened, they accepted his homosexuality and formed a local organization to help other parents deal with their child’s sexuality.

“Even though we had unconditional love for Jonathan,” said Mark Frey, who, along with his wife Melanie founded Proud Parents of Lesbian and Gay Children (PPLGC), “it took two years to accept everything and step out with him.”

“Parents have to come out too,” added Melanie Frey, “and it takes them as much time for them to come out as it did their children. Maybe we can help them with that.”

Two years ago, the summer between his 10th and 11th grades at Northeast High School,

Jonathan came out to his father in an automobile ride. Suspecting, Jonathan’s father, Mark, asked his son if he had a girlfriend and Jonathan replied no, he hadn’t found the right girl yet. Mark then asked Jonathan if he was gay.

“I freaked out,” said Jonathan. “I wasn’t ready to tell him yet. So I denied it and told him ‘no’. About five minutes later I began to cry and he asked me what was wrong. I was flabbergasted that he would ask something like that and I told him that yes, I was gay.”

“I grabbed hold of him and we sat in the car and cried together,” added Mark. Mark then reassured Jonathan that he will always be his son.

Mark, a former Marine and football coach and his wife Melanie formerly in the Air Force have three children, Jonathan being the middle child.

“I was under the impression they would be very against it,” said Jonathan.

After two years of figuring out how to deal with their son’s homosexuality came up with the idea of PPLGC which they founded this past May. “We decided to move forward and are trying to do bigger and better things for the gay community,” said Mark.

Melanie added, “The reason why we wanted to start this is because there’s probably some other parents out there who don’t know what to do and are right on the edge of thinking, ‘well do I want to come out myself?’”

PPLGC currently holds monthly meetings at the Holy Angels Catholic Church, 2917 N.E. 6th Avenue in Wilton Manors. Soon, meetings will be held twice a month. There are currently 12 to 15 families active in PPLGC whose mission is protect children at all schools levels and help parents understand the struggles of LGBT children and to embrace the child for the wonderful young person they are.

The Freys are also active in Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG) and SafeSchools.

For the first time, the Freys marched in last June’s gay pride parade on Wilton Drive. “My dad brought up the idea,” said Jonathan. “I was surprised at first.

I knew what to expect but I didn’t know if he knew what encompasses a gay pride parade or how to deal with it. We walked together and it was really rewarding to know that there are a lot of people that went crazy to see my dad and mom walking next to me.” The shirt Mark wore in the parade proclaimed, “What a great way to celebrate Father’s Day’.” They Freys were joined by other families and some members of PFLAG.

“You would be surprised how many people, when they read our banner, came out to us and congratulated us and shook our hands,” said Melanie. “We were there for Jonathan, it wasn’t about me, it wasn’t about my husband, it was all for him.”

“It was really fun and I was really interested in doing it,” said Frey’s youngest daughter Alexa, 17 who helps with PPLGC’s website and says she has several gay friends at Northeast High School.

“I feel like they went from 0 to 60 in like a day,” said Jonathan. “I’m excited and so happy that they feel good enough with themselves and they feel so much acceptance for me that they are willing to go beyond that to help other kids that are in school that could benefit.”

Last weekend, PPLGC held their first fundraiser which was held at Naked Grape Wine Bar and Gigi & Gavin’s Gourmet Chocolates & Coffee on Wilton Drive. The money is going to be used for scholarships and to raise awareness of the organization and its purpose.

“He’s my son,” concluded Melanie. “and it matters to me for him to have a better life and he knows that he can count on us.”

For more information on Proud Parents of Lesbian and Gay Children, visit.www.pplgc.org.

(Photo: Chely performs at Fleet Week 2005 in New York City. Photo by Samantha L. Quigley)

By Ily Goyanes

One can imagine that being a lesbian in the world of country music is not easy. “It’s the unforgivable,” says Chely Wright, in an interview with the Los Angeles Times. “Historically, country music would rather an artist be a drunk—they even encourage and endorse that one. You get good money from Jim Beam to put that emblem on the side of your bus. I was on the Crown Royal tour, and I have to say it was one of my favorite tours. They would rather you were a drug addict than be gay. They will forgive you if you beat your wife, lose your kids to state, get six divorces, make a sex tape, get labeled as a tramp—any and all of it is better than being gay.”

Chely Wright, a country music star who just came out as a lesbian in a June issue of People magazine, was named best new female vocalist by the Academy of Country Music in 1994. She scored a number one hit on the country music charts with her song, “Single White Female” and has written and recorded a myriad of country hits with country stars such as Brad Paisley, who she also dated before coming out.

Wright basically used Paisley as a beard and has publicly regretted the way she treated him. She goes into detail about their relationship and the hurt she caused him in her autobiograpgy, Like Me, which was released last month.

Born in Kansas City, Missouri, Wright began singing at eleven years old. She started her own band before graduating high school. Wright performed in musical productions such as Opryland USA while attending workshops to perfect her singing and songwriting skills.

Mercury/Polygram signed her to its label in 1992 and released her first album in 1994.

Wright is the first country music star to come out of the closet.

She talks about being a country music fan, and a lesbian, growing up. “I just didn’t see anybody like me. And I knew I wasn’t going to be the first. I knew I was never going to make it on the Opry stage or be able to record an album. I knew I would never get a record deal.”

But, she did. As an adult, she knows that whether she is ostracized or not, country music is a part of her. “There is so much of country music that is genuinely me,” Wright said. “It’s not like I don’t fit in—I do and in so many ways. As a little kid growing up I sat there and read all the liner notes. They were the margins for imagination. Nobody knows what country music fans expect a country star to be more than me because I am a country music fan and always have been. I felt like the people on the album were telling me their story and they were looking right back at me. Loretta Lynn was looking into my eyes and saying, ‘I’m singing this song for you.’ Those artists were welded into my mind. Those artists were about God, family and faith. And, you know? I am too.”

She has taken a huge chance with her career by coming out of the closet in what is notoriously known as a homophobic old boys club.  ”I don’t think a lot of people will come forward and condemn me. Some might but there won’t be many. It’s the quiet haters that do a lot of damage in the world.”

Wright didn’t feel that she had a choice, not as a lesbian, or as an artist. “I had my breakdown—which some of my friends called breakthrough, which is a nice way to say it—and I was halfway through the recording process of this new record when I decided to come out. I was already set on course to make this record with [producer] Rodney Crowell and it was not going to be defined by a country radio sound. I didn’t decide to come out and then make an alt-country album to go with it.”

The potential loss of fans is something that Wright has come to accept. “When you have a big hit in country music or a couple of them, as I have had, you can fully expect to enjoy a career in touring for the rest of your life. You can pay your bills through live music in some capacity, in some way, shape, or form. There is no greater fan in music than a country music fan and once they sign up, they love you for the rest of your life. I am prepared to lose that and I expect I will lose that. This is the right thing to do.”