October 12th, 2004

HTF - Nutty, hyper, Sugar high

E-greetings from your STD florist!

Sure, it's hardly an FTD Pick-Me-Up™ bouquet, but how best to say "sorry for the herpes" than an e-card from the San Francisco Department of Public Health?

Yes, the same guys who brought us the Happy Penis campaign have done it again! Of course, it's anyone's guess as to how long the new e-cards will last (or what non-gonno-urethramitititis is). It's not hard to imagine that every jealous ex will be sending STD-grams to their ex's new interest. Although it may beat drunken crank calls in the middle of the night.
  • Current Music
    The Promise Ring - Feed the Night
FFYR - Proud2B [by ?], proud2B

Six years

October 12, 1998

Six years ago today, Matthew Shepard was murdered for being gay.

What will you do to end the silence?

Click here to post this on your own page or weblog

This day almost escaped me unnoticed this year, if it hadn't been for bgtothen's entry, it might very well have. That's sad, because as the years pass, I begin to let slip by the memory of how this unspeakable crime truly hit me; determination is all too quickly replaced by complacency.

Last year, I wrote this entry. Several years ago, I created this flash animation that served as sort of a catharsis to deal with the guilt I felt over the silence I spoke about in the above entry. We move on, forgetting what the cost of our silence truly can be not only to ourselves but to others.

When we hide who we are to friends, at work, at school, we deny someone the impact of knowing someone who is gay. We know that impact is meaningful. It forces people to confront their prejudices. It's easy for someone to vote in favor of laws that deny rights to gays when he doesn't see how it impacts someone he knows. This isn't to suggest that everyone should speak out or "come out" if s/he isn't ready, but recognize that there is a cost. A nation that stood shocked at the death of Matthew not so many years ago, is all too ready to outlaw our relationships, judges who stand up for our rights are smeared as "activist judges" by cowardly politicians fanning the flames of bigotry. But in some ways, we are the cowards when we don't stand up to them—and others—and say it's not all right.

I still hide sometimes... but not nearly as much.

when the curtain falls and you're caught on the other side
just trying to keep up with the act, we'll lie in the back of black cars,
with the windows rolled up, joining the procession of emptiness.

if we say these words, it will be too late to take them back.
so we hold our breath and fold our hands.
like paper planes, we're going to crash.

we don't have to be alone—ever again.
there's a riot in the theater, someone's standing in the aisle,
yelling that the murderers are everywhere, and they're lining up,
carving "M" into your side....
i'm disappearing, into the spotlight, i'm on display,
with the butterfly and the scarecrow.
with smiles like picket fences, you tie us all up and leave us outside.
that voice is silent now, the boat has sunk, we're on our own,
but we're not going to run.