As for what I wrote in my last entry, though I hate that I can't seem to let it go, I haven't changed how I feel, especially when I read things like this (which showed up on writer Zoe Amos's Facebook feed a little bit ago):

The number of suicides among LGBT youth is higher than their straight demographic, approximately four times higher. Estimates by the Suicide Prevention Resource Center state between 30 to 40 percent of LGBT youth consider suicide. That number rises to over 40 percent for transgender youth. LGBT youth are more likely to be depressed, use illegal drugs and engage in risky behavior. As meaningful and tragic as these numbers are, accurate statistics are hard to come by as sexual orientation and gender identity may be hidden.

The accurate statistic I know is the life of a young person is gone and nothing will change that fact. A few weeks ago, I read about another young person elsewhere in the county who also committed suicide. Seeing these articles makes me feel sad for what could have been. To me, they are not just statistics. I did not know them, but I know their lives mattered.

This month marks the 35th anniversary of my sister’s suicide. I can tell you the questions surrounding her death linger to this day. It saddens me to know she was in so much pain that she took her life. To this day, I despair that she could not get to a place where she could have begun to thrive again, to be the happier person I like to remember, and when I see articles about other young people in similar situations, I feel sadness for them and their loved ones. Yes, it’s personal.

Beyond the sadness, there is hope; hope that other young people will listen to others who say “It gets better.” When you take your life, you remove all chances for that better life. You remove the chance to help others in a similar situation.

Help is available. The It Gets Better Project is a way you can help others and is a great resource if you need help. They recommend the Trans Lifeline, a transgender crisis hotline at (877) 565-8860. The Trevor Project specifically addresses LGBT youth concerns at (866)-4-U-TREVOR (866) 488-7386. You can also call the national Suicide Prevention Lifeline at (800) 273-TALK (8255).


To the anti-gay crowd that would say, being gay itself is what makes you suicidal, I would say no. It's how the people close to you in your life so hatefully feel about gays and lesbians that makes you want to harm yourself. Trust me on this.

It's easy to say no one can make you feel or do something (generally I agree with that) but when loved ones explicitly place conditions on their love for you and one of those conditions is "not being gay" you can turn in on yourself, want to eliminate what causes both their suffering and yours.

This is especially hard for teens and my heart aches terribly for them. This is why I detest "ex-gay therapy." Suicide should never be an answer to any kind of suffering and yet there are many poor souls who feel it's the only way out. They need help and compassion, not hate and judgment. Most of all they need love, most of all from their friends and their family.

You can read more: here

Diatribes like this both make me mad and make me sad. 

They make me mad because I firmly believe people who write stuff like this just don't get it and are being hateful with their vehemence. 

Gay marriage is NOT based on "sexual immorality" or "homosexual behavior," it's based on love and wanting to share your life with someone special, hopefully growing old together, committed and deeply in a lifelong partnership. *

But articles like this also make me sad because guys like this one are not alone in their beliefs and they actually (possibly even sincerely) mean what they say, no matter their bigotry. 

Ever since I first started realizing I'm gay ("started" because as a teen I didn't really understand what I was feeling) I have gone back and forth between hating myself and trying to understand there are tons of others like me who would never ever choose to be gay, would never ever choose to fall in love with someone they can never be with, ever.

I'd love to tell Mr. Barber that some of us who are "homosexual" (notice how anti-gay people never use the word gay, they always use "homosexual" so can they can emphasize the "sexual" part) will probably never meet their special someone, never get married. But we will always be gay, no matter whether we are "practicing" or not. 

From what I've seen and felt and even experienced, the only kind of effective "ex-gay therapy" drives one to seriously contemplate suicide and isn't suicide also considered a sin? I am so weary of getting mad and sad about all this, yet I can't seem to stop it, mostly because my parents believe the very same things this man does:

http://cnsnews.com/commentary/j-matt-barber/why-we-ll-never-bake-your-fake-wedding-cake

I also cannot shake the eerie and very scary feeling (from where I don't know exactly) that gay rights, even the most basic ones, are someday (probably sooner rather than later) going to take a horrible turn backward and all the progress we've made will regress to points that will make people like J. Matt Barber and Orson Scott Card very happy. 



*I've already shared this quote from a recent Washington Post article, but it really speaks to the situation:

“I joke sometimes,” Terrance says, “Gee, if only people could see this decadent gay lifestyle that we’re living: Loading the dishwasher and folding laundry and going to parent-teacher meetings and helping with homework and arranging play dates.” Richard describes it as the “chauffeur stage of marriage. All we do is chauffeur our kids everywhere.”

This book really brightened my afternoon! I love its messages and wonderfully wacky mood and illustrations.  :)

Another Kind Of Love is not any worse than any other lesbian pulp fiction I've read and yet some reviews for it on places like Goodreads are pretty bad. The thing about l.p.f. is that it both reminds modern lesbians that things have gotten much better and that some things (especially ostracization from family and friends)  have sadly stayed the same.

Given the self-hatred so rampant in much of lesbian pulp and how much hate there still is out there for us (think of recent "religious liberty" legislation), some of us still like to read these titles. They can ring more true than today's romance novels that almost always end happily.

In Another Kind Of Love there are quotes that jump out at me, though I haven't finished the novel yet and, for all I know, things end horribly. Besides these quotes, the doubt and self-recriminations the main character experiences get to me a lot.

-“People-starved,” Laura said aloud, “that’s what I was. Just plain people-starved.” She turned the phrase over in her mind and savored it as something significant. . . .

-Laura felt her throat constrict with sympathy. My God, that poor kid. She felt an overwhelming need to help Ginny, to offer her friendship, to take care of her.

-Home. It was an empty word when there was no love.



...the smallest of handwriting can have so much power...

 

 

 

"I knew that at times my fruitless devotion had annoyed her."-

Jorge Luis Borges 

 

 

I just pulled a book off my shelf randomly, tonight, like I do sometimes and opened to the first page in this collection. It's beautifully written so far and also the title story.

 

There are notations in the margins from the previous owner...even better than Kindle Highlights because it's so much more human than what you see on a screen.

 

I think there may have been an owner before the owner before me. You can almost feel the passing on, which is kind of fitting since Jorge Luis Borges is known for his magic realism.

 

It scares me, though, that, almost always, I feel more connected to strangers this way than I do in person...especially when they make the same notes I would have.