“That Queer”

It’s Saturday night and I’m sitting in a coffee shop at 10:30pm sipping a “direct trade organic” latte with hormone/antibiotic free milk and eating a “brownie” that I’m fairly certain doesn’t contain chocolate or sugar.  I’m wearing black leather boots with my dark wash jeans and a button up; not because I thought about it or planned my outfit carefully but because that’s simply the majority of what I own now.  I’m ignoring everyone around me, listening to Indigo Girls at ear-damaging volume, and tapping away at my keyboard pretending I have very important things to do so I don’t have to acknowledge this is how I’m spending my Saturday night.  I’d estimate I’ve spent, oh, 85% of my weekend nights doing this.  Conservative estimate, mind you.

I’m basically a giant stereotype.  A stereotype I would see in high school and think, “Wow.  That person’s life is so much more exciting than mine.  I will never be that cool.”

I’m not that cool.

My life is profoundly boring most days.  I spend too much time home, alone, watching Netflix and reading political blogs.  I have a terrible relationship with almost everyone in my family, not really by anybody’s choosing but that’s that.  I’m constantly worrying about money and employment and whether I’ve chosen the right career path.  My dating life is fairly low key which is fine until I see my friends get married and having children and I’m suddenly thrown for this, “CRAP! THAT is what I’m supposed to be doing?!” loop.

In other words I’m basically a mess.

For a long time I wondered if I’d done it wrong.  Why I wasn’t That Queer with That Exciting Life?  I ran into a friend tonight.  She happened to be at the (admittedly very queer) coffee shop I was camping out in and came over to my table to say hi and give me a hug.  We both noticed a younger-looking person wearing a “Class of 2015” sweatshirt from a local high school and a rainbow friendship bracelet, glancing up at us then ducking back behind their copy of “And The Band Played On.”  We had to smile.  We WERE that kid.  And now, we realized, we were Those Queers.  It was then that I really noticed my outfit, the crap spread over the table I was sitting at, and the friend I was talking to.

We started talking about those days of anxiously looking for anybody “like us” and trying to appear just as cool and together and adult.  In that conversation we realized something about Those Queers, one that surprised us both to some extent.  THOSE QUEERS WERE GIANT MESSES, TOO.

And, also, they were in those coffee shops at 10pm on Friday and Saturday nights, TOO.

I don’t know why it never occurred to me then that they were doing the same thing my friends and I were doing and, therefore, they probably weren’t that much more exciting during the rest of the week.  They were exhausted college and graduate school students who were finishing papers, reading books on queer theory, or just hanging out online and simply looking for a way to not be in their rooms, alone, on a Friday night.  They weren’t doing anything big or special or different.  They were just THERE.

I think it’s ok, though, for teens to see me, to see us, and think “wow.  They are so cool.”  Even if we’re not cool, or together, or at a better place in our lives and even if we’re spending our Friday nights sitting in coffee shops writing blog posts about queer identity simply in order to not be home, alone, writing blog posts on queer identity.  Non-queer folks have people everywhere to look up to, to see in every facet of public life.  They can look at their teachers, their congress people, their parents and their grandparents and people all around and, by and large, see successful people like them.

As a 13 year old that wanted nothing more to shave my head, wear combat boots and confidently proclaim my awesome queerness with my appearance Those Queers were amazing simply because they existed.  Who CARES if they were in a constant stream of dead end relationships with mountains of student loan debt, cars that constantly failed inspection, middling grades in college and no parental figures to speak of?  They were THERE.

In 10 years that teenager at the coffee shop will be that 20-something at the coffee shop.  I’m willing to bet with a shorter haircut, a computer to replace the book, and coffee replacing the orange juice because 10 years of being queer taught them to tolerate coffee.  That Teenager will “escape” Boston because “escaping” wherever you grew up is an essential part of being That Queer no matter how open and liberal your city or origin was.  That teenager will have long-ago scoped out the gayest coffee shop around; no longer going there to prove that survival was possible but maybe because that was the place where there are gender neutral bathrooms and nobody thinks twice about your haircut or gets confused about their new, non-binary name or the friends you bring with you.

Ten years ago I was just about to turn 15 and I was beyond terrified.  I stole hopeful glances of any older queers I saw because it was proof I’d survive my teenage years mostly intact.  It is its own perpetuating “It Gets Better” project without words or any proof beyond existence.

I guess what I’m saying is “God bless the gay coffee shops.  Every one of them.”

All this gay stuff

Last week a North Carolina Baptist pastor went on a 55 minute sermon-tirade about amendment one, gay people, and most notably what to do if you think your son is acting “gay” or “effeminate.”  Though any parenting book in the world would tell you otherwise, this man recommended breaking the limp wrist of young boys and punching your son if he acted too effeminate.  Young girls, in contrast, are not to be allowed to get “too butch;” dress them up and make them objects of attraction.

The outcry from the queer community was immediate and intense.  Child abuse is bad; that’s just a baseline standard most all people operate under.  Moving on from that those in the queer community either personally know the pain of being “different” as a child or they have friends or partners who know that pain.  Allies in the fight for just treatment in society heard the sermon and said “no, that’s wrong.”  We united.

This pastor eventually issued an apology – sort of.  He apologized if we were offended.  He didn’t say he was sorry he said it.  He justified it by saying he was using hyperbolic speech to get a point across like in the bible.  He didn’t elaborate on which parts of the bible he found hyperbolic but I know I’d be interested.

This sermon-tirade occurred in North Carolina before the Tuesday vote on Amendment One, an amendment that passed and therefore reinforced the ban on same-sex marriage in North Carolina but also took scores of rights away from not married couples, same sex or heterosexual, that live together.  It’s an amendment that had no purpose whatsoever and passed only because of fear, homophobic, lies, and scare tactics.  I know what it is like to lose these fights; to sit around as your rights are voted on all day and then watch the polls come in not in your favor.  It’s heartbreaking.

There’s the heartbreak of those voting against you but there’s the added heartbreak of the “liberal” community who have decided they are “too liberal” or “too radical” or “above” marriage equality.  These are folks who tear down the victories many of us have fought long and hard for by telling us that we’re not being radical enough, or liberal enough, or that we’re buying into the system too much.  And when we lose something we fought hard for we’re told by these people not to be sad.  We were fighting for the wrong thing anyway.  Immediately articles about how we only car about marriage when, for instance, the prison industrial complex still targets LGBTQ prisoners and nobody cares pop up all over social networking sites.

The message is clear: if you fight for equality that buys into preexisting systems you are being naïve.

Today, less than 24 hours after Amendment One passed in North Carolina, President Obama came out publicly in support of full marriage rights for same sex couples making him, obviously, the first sitting president to do so.  I, along with hundreds of others, was elated.  We had a president, finally, saying something beyond evasive answers like “that is up to each state” and “civil unions that grant all the same rights and protections are comparable…”.  We had a president saying “I believe gay people who want to get marriage should be able to.

It’s a big moment.  We shouldn’t underestimate that.

Almost immediately those “I’m more liberal than you” folks came out, posting articles titled things like “Barack Obama’s Bullshit Marriage Announcement.”  Saying, again, “You’ve bought in.  It’s pathetic how much your bought in.”

This is an issue I’ve been passionately fighting for for years.  Marriage equality DOES still matter; we cannot wait for everything to be perfectly aligned, for all other injustices to be healed before we celebrate any wins.

I’m happy that Obama came out in favor of marriage equality.  I’m going to celebrate that.

Earth Day Prayer

After service today a number of people asked where the prayer I led came from. I told folks I wrote it and would post it on my blog.

Feel free to use it as you like with attribution to Andrew Coate, April 2012.

Please join me in the spirit of prayer, of reflection, of blessing our Earth this day and all days.

God that is this earth, the soil beneath our feet, the oceans too vast to comprehend, the air that gives us life and the sun that gives us warmth; help us remember that the wind is not documented; it does not get held captive by one country.  The oceans do not carry papers when they travel in great twisting paths around the globe, mixing and churning and forever changing.  As spring turns barren land into new life plants do not ask permission to bloom because of fences or walls or checkpoints.

Today we pause to remember that our earth sustains us only as long as we sustain it.  Let us remember that we are only just a part of this fragile system; we are not in charge but by virtue of what we have done we hold temporary responsibility.  We survive and thrive only as long as we sustain one another and sustain where we live.  Earth day is not about only the soil we stand on and the air we breathe but the encounters we have on this earth and with this earth and how we can recognize, sustain and enhance the good. 

Allow us to live for the good of the earth.

Amen and blessed be

Odd (online) Jobs – I need money

My job isn’t giving me enough hours to really make ends meet right now.

Does anybody have any online jobs I could do to earn a little extra money?  Data entry, transcription, etc?

I just need to earn a hundred or so bucks to get me through to next payday – May 1st.

Wanted: One (1) Easter Basket

Should contain nothing of nutritional value.

No large rodents necessary for delivery.

Stuffed animals optional.

I dislike jelly beans.

What?!  ONLY KIDS GET THESE THINGS??!!??!!

So not fair.

The Foreign Country of “College”

I went to the nicest college I’ve ever heard about.  It’s not the fanciest, or the most expensive (it’s not the cheapest by a long shot!).  We’re not churning out folks in congress (we do have one, though).  My college isn’t well known, and it doesn’t earn the same amount of immediate “respect” upon mention as, say Harvard or Brown.  But it’s a wonderful place where you learn a lot in and out of class and where the people are genuinely nice.

There aren’t really bullies at College of the Atlantic, not in the traditional sense.  If you lined up all the students, which wouldn’t be that hard since there are only around 300, you probably couldn’t pick out who the most popular ones were, or the ones who led student governance, or the ones who spoke the most in class.  In some ways we’re a school of misfits and outcasts who have a lot of good ideas and found a place where we were told to speak up.  You’re in a class of MAYBE 10 other people; if you don’t make your opinions known it’s noticeable.  So you learn to be heard.  Not necessarily to speak, but to be heard.

I learned to speak up before College of the Atlantic; I was carefully groomed by some well-known LGBTQ organizations on how to speak loudly, proudly, and on topic.  I’ve been through more media trainings that I know what to do with, and I know how to pick three talking points and stick to them.  I know how to not get injured while protesting and I know how to deescalate confrontation if it needs to be deescalated.  I know how to make protest signs that cannot be misconstrued by media on the opposing side.

What College of the Atlantic taught me was to be intentional; that it’s actually okay to “sit one out” when something comes up and you’re just too exhausted for it.  It’s perfectly alright to let a chance at organizing, protesting, or giving a speech pass you by and assume that somebody else will take it up.  College of the Atlantic was homogenous enough that I was able to fit in and, therefore, relax.  I didn’t have to be on eggshells there because I was just another one of the quirks at the school.

There’s this thing about college though; it ends. I graduated in 2010, moved out of town then out of state and suddenly I was back in the real world.  The world where my haircut signifies something other than “owns a pair of clippers” and where I can’t expect to introduce myself as Andrew and not have folks question it.  The world where it wasn’t accepted that folks would engage in debate about an issue while sticking, somewhat, to accepted rules.  The world where you can’t point out privilege to somebody and expect them to know what you mean.  The world where people lock their doors at night.

College of the Atlantic, and I’m assuming lots of places like it, gave you enough comfort to fight for what you truly cared about rather than everything that came across your path.  I took a ton of interesting classes there but that lesson, of fighting for what I felt was truly right rather than what I felt I had to fight for, was far more necessary than many of the classes.  It’s not something you can learn in a weekend retreat or a week long class; it took three years to even start making sense to me, and I’m still sorting stuff out almost two years after graduation.

In short, College of the Atlantic taught me to say, “no” when I needed so that I could say, “yes” to life.

And then I left.

It was almost like having lived in a foreign country during your formative years and then being dropped right back off in your country of origin as soon as you hit your stride.

I’m still struggling a little bit; misspeaking here and there, and having some major flops at times.  I forget that it’s not totally acceptable for me to speak up when I feel something isn’t okay in the same way I have been.  That’s not necessarily a good thing, but there are existing power structures that I get to play in to as I move forward toward ministry.  There are some pretty gross examples of people using their power and privilege over me in ways that I hadn’t experienced before because in the past that stuff would have been called out and stopped immediately.  It’s hard for me to step back and say “there’s a power structure here that’s much bigger than me, and I don’t have the right to change it right now.”

This isn’t better than the system at my school.  This doesn’t make those existing and limiting power structures okay.  And this doesn’t make the people abusing their power and privilege over others right or responsible or okay.  And sometimes I’ll explode a little because somebody is being so monumentally ridiculous in private and the antithesis of who they claim to be in public.

But we will get there.  Heaven knows how we will get there.  But we know within.

Right?  Please tell me that’s right.  Please tell me we will get there.  We’ve gotta.

I got in!

I got accepted to Boston University School of Theology for their Master of Divinity Program!

General Assembly Headaches

So we’re still about 4 months out from General Assembly and it feels like I’m banging my head into a wall.  Not just for me but for a lot of the young adults I’ve talked to about this.

Warning!  You’ll probably find this post whiny if you’re somebody who has monetary resources at their disposal.

There are so many assumptions made with regards to money it’s ridiculous.  The dorm housing is an amazing value but they change your card, in full, six weeks prior to GA.  I know that a lot of folks my age have family who can and will front the money, or just pay for it all together, or have awesome jobs that allow them to head off and do whatever around the country.  I also know there are folks my age who have “jobs” at GA who are getting everything paid for.  And there are folks going in big groups, with lots of friends, or with folks from their congregations to help reduce costs.

But none of those are me.

I know that you’re all going to scream THERE ARE SCHOLARSHIPS! at me.

Yeah, there are.  And those are not accessible, either.  Scholarships work as reimbursements meaning if you don’t have the money then all the scholarship in the world won’t help – because you still don’t have the money up front to get there, to buy a plane ticket, or to even know if you’ll have enough to get pay for the room you reserved.  Additionally the only YAs who get to go multiple years in a row are the YAs who can afford it.  You cannot get a youth/young adult scholarship two years in a row (or it’s “very unusual”) so you’re pretty much out of luck unless your financial situation changes dramatically from one year to the next.  Or you get to attend when you can get a scholarship while people who have money get to attend every year, making more of the decisions, and having a bigger influence on the direction our association is going.  Even in the YA realm we vote on one of our caucus co-mods each year and if you’re not there you don’t have the chance to be one.  People who get to attend each year have a much higher chance of getting appointed, elected or asked to be on something because they GET to be there.

And really, saving up for GA isn’t an option for me.  I don’t have enough money to get by on a monthly basis as it is.  Putting any into savings for something as extravagant as “something I might enjoy” is just not really an option.  I can’t afford to buy new clothes, much less save up a few hundred bucks for plane tickets and hotel rooms.

The folks who get to attend GA year after year are the people who can afford it.  The people who get to consistently vote each year on things that are important to them are the people who have the money to go each year.  If we were serious about wanting to bring and KEEP more young people in this faith it seems like there would be a way to let them see what is arguably the best that UUism has to offer.

Even if I find a way to attend this year it doesn’t end here.  Because the same issues will come up year after year.  We’re so far behind on financial accessibility.  And every time something comes up it’s like a big slap in the face.

Do Trans People Have Sex?

You betcha.

You know what we also have?  We have questions.  We have questions about sex and sexuality and all that stuff, especially when we’re younger and especially because “that stuff” often isn’t covered by mainstream sex education.  It’s not covered by most but the most liberal and extensive of sex education.

Scarleteen is a comprehensive sexuality education site; we have a messageboard, a text service, articles, polls, blog posts, and expert advice columns.  We support over FIVE MILLION young people every year on a really modest budget; under 60K to support all of that.

And when I say “we” I do mean “we” because I work with Scarleteen.  I am a Scarleteen volunteer because I know how important sexuality education is, and I know how important it is to be able to ask absolutely any question and receive a factual, nonjudgmental answer from somebody.  This is especially important to me, as a trans person, because there’s just not a ton of information out there about sexuality education for folks outside the gender binary.

Sexuality education goes way, way beyond “how not to get pregnant” or “don’t get a sexually transmitted infection.”  Sexuality education is about healthy relationships AND healthy bodies.  We truly focus on both at Scarleteen.  And we do it with an almost-entirely volunteer staff, and any extra education we need comes entirely from the wonderful (and overworked) Heather Corinna.  We’re a really small group, all with lives outside Scarleteen, providing a lot of services to a lot of people and we do it because we love and respect healthy sexuality.  But we can’t do it for free.

Please consider a generous donation to Scarleteen.  If all you can spare is a few dollars that’s great.  But if you truly care about sexuality education and you CAN afford to give more please consider doing so.  Sexuality education is so important.

Donate here.

Let’s Hold a Revival

Let’s find a field in the middle of nowhere.  Preferably in a “flyover” state.  Maybe somewhere in the Midwest just to really mess with our “northerner” sensibilities.   Let’s find a field and let’s pitch a tent.  And maybe put up a little stage, but that’s totally optional.  Let’s make sure we can have bon fires, though.  Those aren’t optional.

Let’s invite the best and the most passionate of the “up and coming” folks in our denomination to come and preach.  Let’s make sure we arrange for folks to be able to carpool and let’s bring tents.  We all own tents now, after OccupyEverywhereInTheFreakingUS.  So let’s break out those tents again and let’s camp.  Let’s be alive in our faith without worrying that we look silly or ridiculous or too passionate.

Let’s hold a revival.

I’m thinking August 2013.

Who’s in?