A Fabulous Child’s Story

by Lois Gould

Once upon a time, a baby named X was born. This baby was named X so that nobody could tell whether it was a boy or a girl. Its parents could tell, of course, but they couldn’t tell anybody else. They couldn’t even tell Baby X at first.

You see, it was all part of a very important Secret Scientific Xperiment, known officially as Project Baby X. The smartest scientists had set up this Xperiment at a cost of Xactly 23 billion dollars and 72 cents, which might seem like a lot for just one baby, even a very important Xperimental baby. But when you remember the prices of things like strained carrots and stuffed bunnies, and popcorn for the movies and booster shots for camp, let alone 28 shiny quarters from the tooth fairy, you begin to see how it adds up.

Also, long before Baby X was born, all those scientists had to be paid to work out the details of the Xperiment, and to write the Official Instruction Manual for Baby X’s parents and, most important of all, to find the right set of parents to bring up Baby X. These parents had to be selected very carefully. Thousands of volunteers had to take thousands of tests and answer thousands of tricky questions. Almost everybody failed because, it turned out, almost everybody really wanted either a baby boy or a baby girl, and not Baby X at all. Also, almost everybody was afraid that a Baby X would be a lot more trouble than a boy or a girl. (They were probably right, the scientists admitted, but Baby X needed parents who wouldn’t mind the Xtra trouble.)

There were families with grandparents named Milton and Agatha, who didn’t see why the baby couldn’t be named Milton or Agatha instead of X, even if it was an X. There were families with aunts who insisted on knitting tiny dresses and uncles who insisted on sending tiny baseball mitts. Worst of all, these were families that already had other children who couldn’t be trusted to keep the secret. Certainly not if they knew the secret was worth 23 billion dollars and 72 cents – and all you had to do was take one little peek at Baby X in the bathtub to know if it was a boy or girl.

But, finally, the scientists found the Joneses, who really wanted to raise an X more than any other kind of baby – no matter how much trouble it would be. Ms. and Mr. Jones had to promise they would take equal turns caring for X, and feeding it, and singing it lullabies. And they had to promise never to hire any baby-sitters. The government scientists knew perfectly well that a baby-sitter would probably peek at X in the bathtub, too.

The day the Joneses brought their baby home, lots of friends and relatives came over to see it. None of them knew about the secret Xperiment, though. So the first thing they asked was what kind of a baby X was. When the Joneses smiled and said, “It’s an X,” nobody knew what to say. They couldn’t say, “Look at her cute little dimples!” And they couldn’t say, “Look at his husky little biceps!” And they couldn’t even say just plain “kitchycoo”. In fact, they all thought the Joneses were playing some kind of rude joke.

But of course, the Joneses were not joking. “It’s an X” was absolutely all they would say. And that made the friends and relatives very angry. The relatives all felt embarrassed about having an X in the family. “People will think there’s something wrong with it!” some of them whispered. “There is something wrong with it!” others whispered back.

“Nonsense!” the Joneses told them all cheerfully. “What could possibly be wrong with this perfectly adorable X?”

Nobody could answer that, except Baby X, who had just finished its bottle. Baby X’s answer was a loud, satisfied BURP!

Clearly, nothing at all was wrong. Nevertheless, none of the relatives felt comfortable about buying a present for a Baby X. The cousins who sent the baby a tiny football helmet would not come and visit anymore. And the neighbours who sent a pink-flowered romper suit pulled their shades down when the Joneses passed their house. The Official Instruction Manual had warned the new parents that this would happen, so they didn’t fret about it. Besides, they were too busy with Baby X and the hundreds of different Xercises for treating it properly.

Ms. and Mr. Jones had to be Xtra careful about how they played with little X. They knew that if they kept bouncing it up in the air and saying how strong and active it was, they’d be treating it more like a boy than an X. But if all they did was cuddle it and kiss it and tell it how sweet and dainty it was, they’d be treating it more like a girl than an X.

On page 1654 of the Official Instruction Manual, the scientists prescribed: “plenty of bouncing and plenty of cuddling, both, X ought to be strong and sweet and active. Forget about dainty altogether”.

Meanwhile, the Joneses were worrying about other problems. Toys, for instance, and clothes. On his first shopping trip, Mr. Jones told the store clerk, “I need some clothes and toys for my new baby”. The clerk smiled and said, “Well now, is it a. boy or a girl”

“It’s an X”, Mr Jones said, smiling back. But the clerk got all red in the face and said huffily, “In that case, I’m afraid I can’t help you, sir”.

So Mr Jones wandered helplessly up and down the aisles trying to find out what X needed. But everything in the store was piled up in sections marked “Boys” or “Girls”.

There were “Boy’s’ Pyjamas” and “Girls’ Underwear” and “Boys’ Fire Engines” and “Girl’s Housekeeping Sets”. Mr. Jones went home without buying anything for X. That night he and Ms. Jones consulted page 2326 of the Official Instruction Manual. “Buy plenty of everything”, it said firmly.

So they bought plenty of sturdy blue pyjamas in the Boys’ Department and cheerful flowered underwear in the Girls’ Department. And they bought all kinds of toys. A boy doll that made pee-pee and cried, “Pa-pa”. And a girl doll that talked in three languages and said “I am the Pres-i-dent of Gen-er-al Mo-tors”. They also bought a story-book about a brave princess who rescued a handsome prince from his ivory tower, and another one about a sister and brother who grew up to be a baseball star and a ballet star, and you had to guess which was which.

The head scientists of Project Baby X checked all their purchases and told them to keep up the good work. They also reminded the Joneses to see page 4629 of the Manual, where it said: “Never make Baby X feel embarrassed or ashamed about what it wants to play with. And if X gets dirty climbing rocks, never say “Nice little Xes don’t get dirty climbing rocks.”

Likewise, it said: “If X falls down and cries, never say, “Brave little Xes don’t cry”. Because of course, nice little Xes do get dirty, and brave little Xes do cry. No matter how dirty X gets, or how hard it cries, don’t worry. It’s all part of the Xperiment.”

Whenever the Joneses pushed Baby X’s stroller in the park, smiling strangers would come over and coo: “Is that a boy or a girl?” The Joneses would smile back and say, “It’s an X”. The strangers would stop smiling then, and often snarl something nasty – as if the Joneses had snarled at them.

By the time X grew big enough to play with other children, the Jones’ troubles had grown bigger too. Once a little girl grabbed X’s shovel in the sandbox and zonked X on the head with it.

“Now, now, Tracy”, the little girl’s mother began to scold, “little girls mustn’t hit little -” and she turned to ask X, “Are you a little boy or a little girl, dear?”

Mr. Jones, who was sitting near the sandbox, held his breath and crossed his fingers.

X smiled politely at the lady, even though X’s head had never been zonked so hard in all its life. “I’m a little X”, X replied.

“You’re a what ?” the lady exclaimed angrily. “You’re a little B.R.A.T., you mean”.

“But little girls mustn’t hit little Xes, either!” said X, retrieving the shovel with another polite smile. “What good does hitting do, anyway?”

X’s father, who was still holding his breath, finally let it out, uncrossed his fingers and grinned back at X.

And at their next secret Project Baby X meeting, the scientists grinned too. Baby X was doing fine.

But then it was time for X to start school. The Joneses were really worried about this, because school was even more full of rules for boys and girls and there were no rules for Xes. The teachers would tell boys to form one line, and girls to form another line. There would be boys’ games and girls’ games and boys’ secrets and girls’ secrets. The school library would have a list of recommended books for girls and a different list of recommended books for boys. There would even be a bathroom marked BOYS and another marked GIRLS. Pretty soon boys and girls would hardly talk to each other. What would happen to poor little X!

The Joneses spent weeks consulting their Instruction Manual (there were 246 and 1/2 pages of advice under “First Day at School”), and attending urgent special conferences with the smart scientists of Project Baby X.

The scientists had to make sure that X’s mother had taught X how to throw and catch a ball properly and that X’s father had been sure to teach X what to serve at a doll’s tea party. X had to know how to shoot marbles and how to jump rope, and most of all, what to say when the other children asked whether X was a boy or a girl.

Finally, X was ready.

The Joneses helped X button on a nice new pair of red-and-white checked overalls, and sharpened six pencils for X’s nice new pencil box and marked X’s name clearly on all the books in its nice new book bag. X brushed its teeth and combed its hair, which just about covered its ears and remembered to put a napkin in its lunchbox.

The Joneses had asked X’s teacher if the class could line up alphabetically, instead of forming separate lines for boys and girls. And they had asked if X could use the principal’s bathroom, because it wasn’t marked anything except “BATHROOM”. X’s teacher promised to take care of all those problems. But nobody could help X with the biggest problem of all – other children.

Nobody in X’s class had ever known an X before. What would they think? How would X make friends?

You couldn’t tell what X was by studying its clothes – overalls don’t even button right-to-l eft, like girls’ clothes or left-to-right, like boys’ clothes. And you couldn’t guess whether X lad a girls’ short haircut or a boy’s long haircut. And it was very hard to tell by the games X liked to play. Either X played ball very well for a girl, or else X played house very well for a boy.

Some of the children tried to find out by asking (tricky questions, like “Who’s your favourite sports star?” That was easy. X had two favourite sport stars: a girl jockey named Robyn Smith and a boy archery champion lamed Robin Hood. Then they asked, what’s your favourite television programme?” And hat was even easier. X’s favourite television programme was “lassie” which stars a girl dog played by a boy dog.

Then X said that its favourite toy was a doll, everyone decided that X must be a girl. But hen X said that the doll was really a robot, and that X had computerised it, and that it was programmed to bake fudge brownies and then clean up the kitchen. After X told them that, the Other Children gave up guessing what X was. All they knew was they’d sure like to see X’s doll.

After school, X wanted to play with the other children.

“How about shooting some baskets in the gym?” X asked all the girls. But all they did was make faces and giggle behind X’s back. “How about weaving some baskets in the arts and crafts room?” X asked the boys. But they all made faces and giggled behind X’s back, too.

That night, Ms. and Mr. Jones asked X how things had gone at school. X told them sadly that the lessons were okay, but otherwise school was a terrible place for an X. It seemed as if Other Children would never want an X for a friend.

Once more, the Joneses reached for their Instruction Manual. Under “Other Children”, they found the following message: “What did you Xpect? Other Children have to obey all the silly boy-girl rules, because their parents taught them to. Lucky X – you don’t have to stick to the rules at all! All you have to do is be yourself. We’re not saying if it be easy.”

X liked being itself. But X cried a lot that night, partly because it felt afraid. So X’s father held X tight and cuddled it and couldn’t help crying a little too. And X’s mother cheered them both up by reading an Xciting story about an enchanted prince called Sleeping Handsome, who woke up when Princess Charming kissed him.

The next morning, they all felt much better and little X went back to school with a brave smile and a clean pair of red-and-white checked overalls.

There was a seven-letter-word spelling bee in class that day. And a seven-lap boys’ relay race in the gym. And a seven-layer-cake baking contest in the girls’ kitchen corner. X won the spelling bee. X also won the relay race. And X almost won the baking contest, except it forgot to light the oven. Which only proves that nobody’s perfect.

One of the Other Children noticed something else, too. He said: “Winning or losing doesn’t seem to count to X. X seems to have fun being good at boys’ skills and girls’ skills”.

“Come to think of if, said another of the Other Children, “maybe X is having twice as much fun as we are.”

So after school that day, the girl who beat X at the baking contests gave X a big slice of her prizewinning cake. And the boy X beat in the relay race asked X to race him home.

From then on, some really funny things began to happen. Susie, who sat next to X in class, suddenly refused to wear pink dresses to school any more. She insisted on wearing red-and-white checked overalls – just like X’s overalls, she told her parents, were much better for climbing monkey bars.

Then Jim, the class football nut, started wheeling his little sister’s doll carriage around the football field. He’d put on his entire football uniform, except for the helmet. Then he put the helmet in the carriage, lovingly tucked under an old set of shoulder pads. Then he started jogging around the field, pushing the carriage and singing “Rock a bye Baby” to his football helmet. He told his family that X did the same thing, so it must be okay. After all, X was now the team’s star quarter-back.

Susie’s parents were horrified by her behaviour, and Jim’s parents were worried sick about his. But the worst came when the twins, Joe and Peggy, decided to share everything with each other. Peggy used Joe’s hockey skates, and his microscope, and took half his newspaper route. Joe used Peggy’s needlepoint kit, Peggy started running the lawn mower and Joe started running the vacuum cleaner.

Their parents weren’t one bit pleased with Peggy’s wonderful biology experiments, or with Joe’s terrific needlepoint pillows. They didn’t care that Peggy mowed the lawn better, and that Joe vacuumed the carpet better. In fact they were furious.

It’s all that little X’s fault, they agreed. Just because X doesn’t know what it is, or what it’s supposed to be, it wants to get everybody else mixed up, too! Peggy and Joe were forbidden to play with X anymore. So was Susie, and then Jim, and then all the Other Children. But it was too late; the Other Children stayed mixed up and happy and free, and refused to go back to the way they’d been before X.

Finally, Joe and Peggy’s parents decided to call an emergency meeting of the school’s Parents’ Association, to discuss “The X Problem”. They sent a report to the principal stating that X was a “disruptive influence”.

They demanded immediate action. The Joneses, they said, should be forced to tell whether X was a boy or a girl. And then X should be forced to behave like whichever it was. If the Joneses refused to tell, the Parents’ Association said, then X must take an Xaminiation. The school Psychiatrist must Xamine it physically and mentally and issue a full report. If X’s test showed it was a boy, it would have to obey all the boys’ rules. If it proved to be a girl, X would have to obey all the girls’ rules, and if X turned out to be some kind of mixed up misfit, then X should be Xpelled from the school. Immediately!

The Principal was very upset. Disruptive influence? Mixed-up misfit? But X was an Xcellent student. All the teachers said it was a delight to have X in their classes. X was President of the student council. X had won First prize in the talent show and second prize in the art show and honourable mention in the science fair and six athletic events on field day, including the potato race.

Nevertheless, insisted the Parents’ Association, X is a Problem Child. X is the Biggest Problem Child we have ever seen!

So the Principal reluctantly notified X’s parents that numerous complaints about X’s behaviour had come to the school’s attention. And that after the Psychiatrist’s Xaminiation, the school would decide what to do about X.

The Joneses reported this at once to the scientists, who referred them to page 85759 of the I nstruction Manual. “Sooner or later,” it said, “X will have to be Xamined by a Psychiatrist. This may be the only way any of us will know for sure whether X is mixed up or whether everyone else is”.

The night before X was to be Xamined, the Joneses tried not to let X see how worried they were.

“What if” Mr. Jones would say. And Ms. Jones would reply, “No use worrying”.

Then a few minutes later, Ms. Jones would say, “What if” and Mr. Jones would reply, “No use worrying”.

X just smiled at them both, and hugged them hard and didn’t say much of anything. X was thinking, What if? And then X thought: No use worrying.

At Xactly 9 o’clock the next day, X reported to the school Psychiatrist’s office. The Principal, along with a committee from the Parents’ Association, X’s teacher, X’s classmates and Ms. and Mr. Jones waited in the hall outside. Nobody knew the details of the tests X was to be given, but everybody knew they’d be very hard, and that they’d reveal Xactly what everyone wanted to know about X, but was afraid to ask.

It was terribly quiet in the hall. Almost spooky! Once in a while, they would hear a strange noise inside the room. There were buzzes. And a beep or two, and several bells. An occasional light would flash under the door. The Joneses thought it was a white light, but the Principal thought it was blue. Two or three children swore it was either yellow or green. And the Parents’ Committee missed it completely.

Through it all, you could hear the Psychiatrist’s low voice, asking hundreds of questions, and X’s higher voice, answering hundreds of answers. The whole thing took so long that everyone knew it must be the most complete Xaminiation anyone had ever had to take. Poor X, the Joneses thought Serves X right, the Parents’ Committee thought! Wouldn’t like to be in X’s overalls right now, the children thought.

At last, the door opened. Everyone crowded around to hear the results. X didn’t look any different; in fact, X was smiling. But the Psychiatrist looked terrible. He looked as if he was crying!

“What happened?” everyone began shouting. Had X done something disgraceful? “I wouldn’t be a bit surprised!” muttered Peggy and Joe’s parents.

“Did X flunk the whole test?” cried Susie’s parents. “Or just the most important part?” yelled Jim’s parents. “Oh, dear”, sighed Mr Jones. “Oh, dear”, sighed Ms. Jones. “Sssh”, sssshed the Principal. “The Psychiatrist is trying to speak”.

Wiping his eyes and clearing his throat, the psychiatrist began in a hoarse whisper.

“In my opinion”, he whispered – you could tell he must be very upset – “in my opinion, young X here -”

“Yes? Yes” shouted a parent impatiently. “Sssssh!” sssshed the Principal.

“Young Ssssshhh here, I mean, young X” said the doctor, frowning, “is just about … “. “Just about WHAT? Let’s have it!” shouted another parent. “Just about the least mixed-up child I’ve ever Xamined” said the Psychiatrist. “Yah for X,” yelled one of the children. And then the others began yelling, too. Clapping and cheering and jumping up and down. “SSSSSHH!” Ssshed the Principal, but nobody did.

The Parents’ Committee was angry and bewildered. How COULD X have passed the whole Xamination? Didn’t X have an identity problem? Wasn’t X mixed up at ALL? Wasn’t X any kind of misfit? How could it NOT be, when it didn’t even KNOW what it was? And why was the Psychiatrist crying?

Actually, he had stopped crying and was smiling politely through his tears. “Don’t you see?” he said, “I’m crying because it’s wonderful! X has absolutely no identity problem! X isn’t one bit mixed up! As for being a misfit – ridiculous! X knows perfectly well what it is! Don’t you, X? the doctor winked. X winked back.

“But what IS X?” Shrieked Peggy and Joe’s parents. “We still want to know what it is!” “Ah, yes”, said the doctor winking again. “Well, don’t worry. You’ll all know one of these days. And you won’t need me to tell you.” “What? What does he mean?” some of the parents grumbled suspiciously.

Susie and Peggy and Joe all answered all at once. “He means that by the time X’s sex matters, it won’t be a secret anymore!”

With that, the doctor began to push through the crowd towards X’s parents. “How do you do?” he said, somewhat stiffly. And then he reached out to hug them both. “If I ever have an X of my own,” he whispered, “I sure hope you’ll lend me your instruction manual”.

Needless to say, the Joneses were very happy. The Project Baby X scientists were rather pleased too. So were Susie, Jim, Peggy, Joe, and all the Other Children. The Parents’ Association wasn’t, but they had promised to accept the Psychiatrist’s report and not make any more trouble. They even invited Ms. and Mr. Jones to become honorary members, which they did.

Later that day, X’s friends put on their red-and-white-checked overalls and went over to see X. They found X in the back yard, playing with a very tiny baby that none of them had even seen before. The baby was wearing very tiny red-and-white-checked overalls.

“How do you like our new baby?” X asked the Other Children proudly. “It’s got cute dimples,” said Jim. “It’s got husky biceps, too”, said Susie. “What kind of baby is it?” asked Joe and Peggy.

X frowned at them. “Can’t you tell?” Then X broke into a big, mischievous grin, “It’s a Y!”

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Voice Comment: (206) 338-ONG-9

:: download file :: listen on iPhone ::

Duration: 56:13 | 26.1MB | Mono |

Chatting with a couple of my Asian friends about Pride and being gay in Malaysia.

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Voice Comment: (206) 338-ONG-9

:: download file :: listen on iPhone ::

Duration: 59:16 | 27.5MB | Mono |

Gay role models in Asia. Sex in Asia. I broke into Malaysian English off and on.

I got a little bit nutty this afternoon, nutty in a sense that I actually considered telling my mom that I am gay.

I do not know what got into me this afternoon, but it never quite struck me before this that I should actually consider letting my mom know the truth regarding sexuality. But why? Well maybe I am just tired of hiding it from her all the time. I have always told her that “I will never get married”…to a man that is, but I never said anything about being married to a woman. I never denied being gay to my mother, and neither did I ever admit that I was straight, ever.

It did occur to me today that there is nothing thats stopping me from changing my status quo in my family. It is just really a matter of whether I wanted to. So what if her youngest daughter suddenly told her that she is gay? I mean, what is the most she could do to me? Throw me out? Disown me? Probably, but not likely – after all, I am her ‘anak kesayangan’ (I admit) since my (straight) siblings have already left the nest.

I think before this, the thought of ‘coming out’ of my parents would seem entirely alien. And by ‘this’ I would mean before graduating and getting a decent job, which I only just begun at this year. Now that I somewhat have control over my finances, its sure as hell is a possibility that I could one day go to my mom and tell her,”‘mom, I don’t like men and I cannot ever be with one”. Maybe…just maybe.

I wonder how many PLUs out there suffer this predicament; parents do not that know you are gay, mom wants to hook you up with so-and-so’s son who is a who’s-who of some company. It must annoy you to bits! And you just want to shout out aloud “Mom I’m gay!’. I address this topic to the boys too. It must be harder for them. If you’re 30 (for example), single, got a good job and gay, mom’s bound to realise that you have never brought any of your ’friends’ home for dinner.

I am quite fortunate to have parents that are quite liberal, liberal in a sense that they do not expect me to find a man and start making babies rightaway. As far as my mother goes, she is completely fine with me remaining single all my life…but me being a lesbian? I am….not so sure though.

The essence of ‘coming out’ is surely not confined to just your family. But I am sure, for many, that is the starting point as gaining acceptance for who you are from the people who are closest to you, surely means alot. But I am sure there are just as many of us who would rather hide the truth from mom and dad simply because we would rather not break their hearts. I think I am quite right to say that most parents would rather not have their children turn out to be gay.

And to be honest I am not sure about this whole ‘coming out’ thing either. Although most of my gay friends do tell me that I have ‘gay’ written all over me. But heck, what do they know, they are just as gay as I am (haha). Plus, I would be darned if people at work knew about how gay I was (very). Which makes me take a step back and look at this whole ‘coming out’ issue more carefully, now I simply would not want my boss or colleagues to know would I?No way.

It seems like I am taking baby-steps at coming out of the closet. It seems after spending 20-odd years in there (I have been gay for as long as I can remember) I have gotten quite comfortable in there, a tad reluctant to step out..perhaps doing it one foot at a time for now, and occasionally stepping back in and shutting the door because I just do not know if it will be okay if I come out.

Occasionally it does get a little lonely in there. I know a part of me feels the need to be addressed by my own ‘team’ someday. It could just be that I am longing to find somewhere I belong in this world. What about you?

I hope you do not think I am pathetic. I have only a handful of PLU friends and all my best friends are straight. I do not hang out at gay clubs because I am not really interested in the gay clubbing scene altogether. What I appreciate is people like you and me, who are realistic about living in this straight straight real world, were we have work, earn and face the boss, come home from work and have dinner with your mother.

I discovered TiltedWorld close to a year ago, and it took me that long to finally say something around here. Well, maybe I am taking baby steps at this whole ‘coming out’ thing, albeit too small of a step maybe. But then again, what is the rush in it? Being gay is about knowing who you are inside, rather than who knows that you are gay.

Picture taken from Queerty.com

From the Guardian.

SINGAPORE (AP) — The gay community in tightly controlled Singapore held its first-ever rally Saturday, taking advantage of looser laws on public gatherings to call for equality.

About 2,500 participants wore pink clothing, played music and sang songs at a park known as Speaker’s Corner, said organizer Pink Dot, which represents Singapore’s lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender residents.

“This is a great opportunity for us to make our pitch for the equal treatment of the LGBT community in Singapore,” said Roy Tan, a Pink Dot spokesman.

Singapore’s government has become more tolerant toward gays and lesbians in recent years, but sodomy is still illegal, Tan said.

Deputy Prime Minister Wong Kan Seng told the state-owned New Paper on Friday that gay people “have a place in our society” but warned they must “not assert themselves stridently as gay groups do in the West.”

The government eased a ban on public demonstrations last year, encouraging Singaporeans to air grievances at Speaker’s Corner as long as they don’t discuss race, language or religion. The government says public discussion of those subjects could enflame passions and create instability in the multiethnic city-state.

Last year, Singaporean investors met at the park after losing money on structured notes issued by Lehman Brothers Holdings Inc.

Not shame, not fear, nor of anger – but of pride; full distinguished accepting pride. Because pride is after all what we should all feel when it comes to our sexuality, no matter who we are. Sexuality cannot be defined by race, or color, or status, nor nationality even; it is something I feel everyone should understand and learn more about, rather than hide from.

Watching the video, it reminds me of the earlier days I spent trying to open my parents up to life knowing they have a gay son living under their roof. The earlier days my family pretends that my sexuality is something shameful to the family; to speak of it openly, even amongst ourselves is taboo. The video in its own way, now reminds me of the family I have today – who openly acknowledges that I am who I am, and what my dad playfully likes to refer to as the bengkok (literally “bent”) son, whom no matter what – is still family and for that, will always be loved. It is the same spirit I see in them that I see in the video; on the faces of the people who speak of homosexuality and the people they love.

Pride.

In that way, I feel Malaysia has yet a long way to go in these matters – but that doesn’t mean I ever give up hoping for the day we could all stand as one beneath the flag that unites us all as a nation, the same way all Singaporeans stand united in the foreignness that is sexuality. The East, majorly – has a long way to go yet regarding the full acceptance of different sexualities as part of our identities, but as the Western world progresses, so will we.

To that, before I sign off -  I salute and applaud once again to our neighbors in Singapore for this stand for the unity of differences in sexuality. May the 16th of May mark a great victory in your calendar for change, which in some way – I hope will pave the road for the many other nations in the East to someday follow in your footsteps; a statement to the world that sexuality is not a crime nor a defect. It is our identity. Godspeed.

United we stand; in pride we hold.

As we walk on the long weary path we call our lives, we stumble upon parts in which we are forced to make a choice. Some choose to take the path less taken; some choose to follow their hearts’ desires. But all in all, will it bring us to the future we hope for remains questionable. The choices we make and the choices others make are sometimes merely a simple indication of our hearts’ desires. What do we want for ourselves? Some of us can’t really answer this question. Those who are generally holier than thou would reply that they want to please God and to live in His will. Others who are deluded by the prospects of fame and fortune will merely say I want to be rich and famous. But what do YOU want? What does your heart desire most? That’s a question you have to answer in your own time, and till you manage to answer this question, you haven’t truly matured yet.While others may believe that our choices are selfish and against both God’s will and against the norm, we pursue them anyway. In the process, others will still try to change our choices as a feeble attempt to put their choices in our path. Your parents will do certain things and say it’s for your own good. Your friends will say that they’re doing this because they care for you. Both reasons are generally truthful but the very last question remains, but what’s your role in this decision making process? Will their choice fill the void in your heart? Will you be the person you dream of being and all in all, will that silent wish of yours ever come true? There is no reason for you take make a choice just to please others. Perhaps it is time for us to go against the world and stand up for who and what we are.

We have to come to an understanding that all of us seek different things and that’s why sometimes we end up believing that the other party is misled. What is right and what is wrong remains a question without an answer. While some of us may place their lives on the top of their decision making hierarchy, others may not do so. A mother who had lost her daughter in an accident may put her only remaining son on the very top of her list of factors to consider while a father in the same condition may put his supply of alcohol and sex on the top of his list. The general human nature would believe that what the mother is doing is right and what the father is doing is obviously wrong. But who would ever know that it was the mother’s protective actions that broke her homosexual son’s heart whilst the father’s choice of being sick and drunk that made the family stay together to nurse him? The way life works is beyond our comprehension. We are but mere mortals living to fulfill our very own purpose.  Every step we take to realize our dreams will sometimes be the undoing of our wishes. But then again, it’s just the human nature to keep on trying. Sometimes we try so hard, even when we know that the future we are trying so hard to avoid is indeed, inevitable. It’s like trying to make a straight guy fall in love with you, you know the odds are definitely against you but you love him anyway. Secretly you are betting on the 0.1% chance that he may be a bisexual even when he secretly onfides in you that he’s interested in a certain hot chick.

I fell in love with my best friend, and even though I knew he was straight and I would get hurt, I loved him anyway.Guess all we can do is to keep on choosing, regardless of where it’ll lead us to. We only have a choice over the action and none over the result. This little power of choice is all we have, though it can’t always bring us the ending that we want, we can always still live in denial and believe that it will bring the happy ever after we yearn. This little bit of belief is however what we call HOPE.

Wherever the trail leads you and whatever the choice you make, have hope and one day it will lead you to your very own fairytale.

Voice Comment: (206) 338-ONG-9

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Along with over 300 people, I attended the Kansas City’s own Fight the H8 rally. I chatted with many people and asking them why was it important that they are out there in the cold to be in this rally.

This will be one of the top issues of my life to fight for the right that was taken away from me simply because I’m gay. Yes, this is personal. You won’t stop hearing from me.

Listen to the audio podcast by clicking “play” on the audio player above.

Nakedwriter covers the Protest Against Prop 8 from downtown Boston.

Under the dreary skies of a downpour, I trudged along the sidewalks to the meeting place. No one seemed to be around. I wondered if the weather had dampened our spirits. “Even God doesn’t like us,” remarked one of my co-protesters.

And then, almost without warning, a group of semi-soaked individuals, umbrella and poster clad, came marching upon us. “Gay, straight, white, black. Marriage is a civil right!” they chanted. I was engulfed by the crowd, pulled along, and marched closely, chanting:

Gay. Straight. Black. White. Marriage is a civil right!

Supporters we passed cheered and clapped, while drivers honked their support. We made our way, half wet, to the plaza in front of the Boston City Hall. It was quite empty, quite quiet.

It took another half an hour before the crowd swelled. All sorts of people, families, couples, individuals, college students, teachers, mothers, legislators, musicians, artists, bikers, were present with their chants and boards.

“Prop 8 = Hate”

“California. WTF??”

“Liberty and Justice for All.”

“All Families are Equal.”

Speeches soon began. They crowds chanted for equality. Boo-ed at DOMA (Defense of Marriage Act). Chanted for change. Boo-ed at the people who mislabel us. Chanted for hope.

A journalist asked us, why were we internationals, unconcerned with the legalities of a foreign America, bothered about showing up. “America is seen as a pioneer. Change is followed elsewhere in USA’s footsteps…” pause “when it pertains the rights of LGBTQ,” someone said. “Because we’re fighting for an international cause: the right to love.”

“Because at home, women are told they can’t dress too manly,” I added.

This video is mainly on Professor Lessig’s opinion on Prop 8. But his arguments on separating religion from state laws as well as definitions of love and marriage is applicable to all of us struggling with social and religious bias. Please watch and spread!

Lawrence Lessig (born June 3, 1961) is an American academic and political activist. He is a professor of law at Stanford Law School and founder of its Center for Internet and Society. Lessig is a founding board member of Creative Commons, a board member of the Software Freedom Law Center and a former board member of the Electronic Frontier Foundation.[1] He is best known as a proponent of reduced legal restrictions on copyright, trademark and radio frequency spectrum, particularly in technology applications. Excerpt from Wikipedia.

I had the opportunity to meet Professor Lessig on several occasions. Though always soft-spoken and polite, his speeches whether on legal copyright or political issues are very rousing.

Margot and Koko have been together for 12 years. Along the process, they decided to have a child together – a beautiful precocious girl who is 4 years old now. I had the fortune to attend their commitment ceremony back in 2002. It was a beautiful ceremony held in the rolling green hills of Oakland, California. There were some initial drama but in the end love prevailed and both families attend the ceremony.

Margot and Koko both are very active in the LBGT community in the micro and macro level. I remember when I first came out, they were both there to give me supporting shoulders and friendly ears. Many Asian Pacific Islander (API) lesbians can attest to the same. They are also involved in almost every major LGBT initiatives in the Bay Area since I can remember. Not only were they instrumental in publishing a Chinese-English coming out booklet* but they are key principles of the API LGBT events around the Bay Area as well.

Margot’s stories about coming out to her parents inspired me to be open to mine. Margot, who is originally from Sabah, is open about her sexual orientation and her relationship with Koko to her family. The trust and support given to her in return by her parents is truly inspirational.

Evidence to this support is in the marketing spread where Margot’s dad joins their fight against California Prop 8.

I find their energy and dedication to each other and to the community very inspiring.

Here is the ad and the translation:

letcaliforniaring.org

Ad Translation:
“My wife and I have been married for 50 years. And now, my daughter and her partner have the chance to do the same” – James Yapp.

We knew Koko was the one for Margot when we met her. They met at the Lunar New Year parade, the Year of the Rat. Koko was wearing mouse ears and chatting with everyone. She has always been open with us, and she and Margot love each other. My wife Teoto and I love seeing them taking care of one another, so happy together, year after year.

After 11 years as a couple, California finally allowed Margot and Koko to get legally married. We supported their marriage every step of the way – literally! Together, my wife and I walked Margot down the aisle. We are all family now and family matters so much.

STRONG COMMITMENTS. STRONG FAMILIES.

Join the conversation at www.californiaring.org
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In the couple’s own words “We want to spread the word out to as many California voters we can get. Please vote no on Prop 8!”

* 4th edition of “Beloved Daughter” booklet contains 14 stories by parents and siblings of Chinese lesbians about their coming-out in both Chinese and English. Please email MAPBLN for a FREE copy!