Another Queer Jewish Buddhist

Marriage equality, the NYC Prop 8 Demo and channeling anger

Tonight the NYC queer community expressed its anger at the passage of Prop 8 in California with an old-fashioned street demonstration outside of the LDS church on Broadway and 65th Street. It was encouraging to see thousands of us to fight for marriage equality, even though it was for another state. How many of those that were out tonight have been part of the marriage equality fight in New York state? Certainly quite a few, since I recognized quite a number from the annual lobbying day in Albany. But many are not connected to any organized efforts. And there were some who chanted slogans that were anti-church.

Now, I am not exactly pro-church. I continue to be amazed that the one thing that brought together all the feuding religions to sit down in Jerusalem was their desire to issue a statement condeming queer people. It's enough to make a queer Jewish Buddhist into a militant atheist. Except that's actualy accepting their definition of queer folk — outside the spiritual. And quite frankly, I refuse to deny my connection to the Divine.

 Ours is a community that has been spiritually wounded by the religious establishment. And often, at demonstrations like these, where the religious establishment has truly done something heinous, the pain of this wounding comes out in expressions of hatred for religion and denial of our deepest longings for experiencing the Divine. The reason I seek loving relationships with men is that is where I experience the Divine Presence. I experience divinity and mystery in all my relations (to steal a phrase from Body Electric) whether they are physical or not, with men and women. But that highest connection has been in loving relationship with another man.

This evening I heard a lot of anger. And anger is appropriate. But I don't want my queer community to throw out the baby with the bath water by jettisoning spiritual connection while fighting organized bigotry and ignorance masquerading as religion.

Over at fivethirtyeight.com, Nate Silver has been debunking the analysis that it was the black  community that was responsible for the Prop 8 loss. His analysis of the voting patterns showed that it was a demographic I fall in, that is voters over 45, that made the difference.

But the point i really want to make here is the lesson that needs to be learned from the Obama campaign. The queer community in California created advertising that talked to people who were already on their side. Or just to themselves. They did not get shoe leather on the ground organizing in communities around the state. They did not work hard to engage people in the middle who could be swayed one way or the other. Sure, the LDS poured lots of money into the state. But churches are also communities that are highly organized. Where is our community organization? Our leaders are not deep in the community — and they sure dont' do much cross community organizing.

The very fact that we are even having this issue be fought so closely is something I never expected to see in my lifetime. I expected when I came out and joined the gay movement in 1970 that I would see a world where we felt safe, and were not objects of ridicule, disrespect or violence. That how we expressed our love would not be a violation of the law. I wasn't expecting to see legal recognition on the order of marriage. In fact, in 1970 there were many in the movement who wanted nothing to do with the institution they saw as obsolete.

I deeply believe marriage is important and makes communities stronger. And so I want it for my queer community. I believe deeply in the American value of freedom of religion. That means there will be religions out there that will never recognize my relationships as either valid or expressions of Divine love through human action. That's okay with me. I don't have to join that religion. And they don't have to marry me to anyone.

The mixture of marriage rites and marriage rights are some of the confusion that makes this a problem in the pubiic arena. But we are not engaging the people of faith who would be on our side. I am thrilled that the Empire State Pride Agenda has a program called Pride in the Pulpit, which engages communities of faith and leaders of those communities so that they actually are a large part of the efforts in Albany to extend marriage rights. I would have liked to have seen those people at the demonstration tonight. I chose to wear a star of David and a kippah at the demonstration be be out as a person of faith, because I felt it was important not only to be queer identified, but identified with Divine love. Which transcends religion.

May we open up to the pain of our spiritual wounding and use it to reconnect. May we use this reconnection to reach out to those who would hear us and support us if we learned to listen to them and truly hear their concerns. And I know we will prevail in our cause, because ultimately, nothing can withstand the power of love. 

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One of the nice things about the demonstration was I got to hang out with friends. I ran into people from GLYNY Again, the alumni organization of Gay & Lesbian Youth of New York (in photo below). I ran into friends from synagogue. From the Center. From my old schools. Work. It was quite a lot of fun in that way.

And as I left I saw the line of police cars that we so often see even when there are no demonstrations. As though they were there to intimidate the population. When Ann Northrup was instructing the marshalls on how to make sure there was no violence at the march, all I could think was, there are provocateurs in this crowd. There are secret police taking photos. And the line of police cars did not make me feel safer, they reminded me that the Bush years have been a growing police state, that used the terrorist attack of 2001 as an excuse to further strip us of our freedoms. I can only pray that the new president can reverse this trend, even though so much of this erosion is local.

Gay Youth to GLYNY Again: A Queer Odyssey

The first generation of post-Stonewall gay and lesbian youth made an important contribution to the generation that followed. And they in turn passed their contributions on...in GLYNY...Gay & Lesbian Youth New York. And they in turn...well, Out At The Center captures it all here:

I'm just proud to be in this lineage and that we continue to do good work in the community.

Sunday Afternoon at Splash Bar's Wet T-Shirt Contest

Okay, not really Miss Thingyan. These are photos from the annual ThinGyan New Year's Water Festival celebrated by the Burmese community in New York City down on Henry Street on the Lower East Side. Great noodles. Deliciously cold iced orchid tea. And lots of water from super soakers and silver bowls splashed around for good luck in the new year. There was also entertainment — traditional dance troupes and singers from the more than 30 different ethnic groups that make up the Burmese nation. And while most of the men were in those sexy sarongs called longyi, this young man had to endure the heat, and dance, in this traditional fashion statement.

There was also a fund raiser raffle to raise money for the victims of Hurricane Nargis. The day turned out to be a GLYNY Again mini-mini reunion, since I went to the festival with John Chiafalo, the 4th Chair of Gay Youth in the early 70s, and Mark K., who is the GLYNY Again archivist (which is not so different from the position he held in GLYNY in the mid 80s).

Afterward we were good and soaked...well just a little sprinkled...we headed uptown for another ethnic celebration by an exotic culture. Yes, it was the Bastille Day celebration on East 60th Street, where there were many delicious desserts, including this handsome young fellow in a balloon version of a revolutionary tricorner:

Ah, New York City. Why would one want to live anywhere else in the world?

Celebrating the Activism of Bob Kohler: The "Political Funeral"

Tonight was the "political funeral" of activist Bob Kohler. He was sent off in grand style, with brass instruments and drums, like a New Orleans farewell. The really amazing thing was there were activists of all ages and eras. There were a few veterans of the Gay LIberation Front; there were members of Act Up; there were members of the Church Ladies for Choice; there were members of FIERCE, the youth group; neighbors from the old West Village who remembered him walking his dog Magoo back in the 70s along Christopher Street; and there were the new generation of transfolk who Bob always defended strongly.

I met Bob at GLF meetings at Alternate U. He was a mentor to me when I was chair of Gay Youth in 1971. And I knew him when he was manager of the Club Baths (yes, amazingly, that is indeed my old CB membership card). This was something I loved about Bob — he was not a dour leftist who was so angry that pleasure was out of the equation. For him, pleasure was a radical act. And in fact it still is. Bob fought to keep the bath houses open as HIV stalked the city — because he knew sex wasn't going away and that the best way to encourage safe sex was in a positive environment. The Club Baths, of all the bath houses I visited, was truly a positive place. That can't be said for many of its successors in the city today. But he was right, sex didn't go away.

Bob was grounded in a way many in GLF were not. After all, he was a veteran and a businessman. He understood the system, and he knew how to fight it, stand up to it, challenge it. This quote in his obituary in the Voice captures his spirit best, because he also was a member of CORE (the Congress on Racial Equality) a long ago civil rights group. He fought for everyone, and he never stopped...thus his statement on his presence that the protest of the shooting of Amadou Diallo:

"I do not equate my oppression with the oppression of blacks and Latinos. You can't. It is not the same struggle, but it is one struggle. And, if my being here as a longtime gay activist can influence other people in the gay community, it's worth getting arrested. I'm an old man now. I don't look forward to spending 24 hours in a cell. But these arrests are giving some kind of message. I don't know what else you can do."

He knew what to do. And we all learned from him. May his memory be a blessing — and a call to action.

Homecoming Queens: The Gay Youth/GLYNY Reunion

We all came home this last weekend. The very first members of Gay Youth in 1969, members of GLYNY from the mid 80s, members of BiGLYNY from the late 80s, and even members of BiGLYTNY from the 90s. It didn’t matter what the acronym was — everyone in room 301 of the LGBT Center had been involved in this constantly transforming queer youth organization. And now, for the first time since it was founded 37 years ago, people from every generation were in one room together celebrating our shared experience, even though most of us had not been members at the same time.

Like a reunion from a fraternity (or sorority, or…well here language breaks down) where members come back to the school to celebrate their shared experience across generations, we followed important rituals.

Of course, my old friend and fellow alum Alan Gomberg (1973-77) suggested we all wear sashes, like the girls in Follies descending the staircase. Alum Michale Knowles, who worked the Follies revival on Broadway wore his Follies jacket — a sly wink to the nature of the experience. No, don’t look at me, please, not just yet. Why was I there? Was I crazy? No. It was an amazing experience.

After an eloquently moving welcome speech from the new Board of Directors Chair, Tom Approbato, there was a benediction from our member rabbi, Shoshana Phoenixx-Dawn, blessing those assembled and remembering those we have lost. And then we were all finally able to answer the question “who’s your daddy.” Because the man who was there to start it all in 1969, Mark Segal, the publisher of Philadelphia Gay News and founder of GYNY, was introduced. His speech was short.  And filled with gratitude and wonder at the many lives this organization has touched.

Then we did what we did at every meeting, no matter what decade it was. We all went around in a circle an introduced ourselves. With just about 100 people there, it took almost two hours. But there was never a dull moment — because our stories are the stories of the LGBT movement itself. From those of us who went on to make activism our life’s work, to those whose daily lives as out proud queer folk was the stuff everyday heroism.

And half way round the circle one member gave Mark Segal the gift of spiritual fatherhood. He said that the week Mark founded the group in August 1969 was the week he was born. Gratitude.

We all felt it. And we all felt a desire to give back. A constitution was ratified for this new alumni organization: GLYNY Again. A board of directors was elected (and I am both proud and grateful to be on this board). And then when the discussion went to how we could give back to our community by supporting today’s youth, Shoshana spontaneously passed the hat, saying that if everyone gave $5 we’d have a start toward a scholarship fund for a young queer student.

When the funds were counted, John Chiafalo — who was the 4th Chair of GY in 1973, after me (I was second, right after Mark Segal) and Bill Agress (he was my first serious boyfriend and 3rd Chair for a very brief time after me) — made a Truth or Dare kind of offer to double the pot. And the dare was taken. I won’t tell you what happened, since this was a closed circle, but I will say it was as wild and funny and sacred an act as has ever happened at a GY/GLYNY meeting. Our hearts were already open, so that the laughter and love at that moment was truly heart felt.

Peter Morley gave the closing remarks, capturing all the feeling in the room and reflecting the love back at all of us. And then we headed up to Bamboo 52, where owner John Greco, was sponsoring our event with a catered party that went on for hours. Between the meeting, starting at 3pm, and the party, which finished after 10pm, we were all very tired and happy former youth.

The entire day was recorded on video — a powerful record for those who come after of the strength we give each other in community across generations.

Now the work begins: the new GLYNY Again board will start considering the ways in which this organization will work to support today’s queer youth, and how we can support each other as alums (because I don’t want to gender the word).

What ever became of…? Google & Wikipedia changed the game.

There used a series of books that helped nostalgia buffs find out "What Ever Became of...," Ruth Etting, Billy Gilbert, Edna Mae Oliver and the like. The author was Richard Lamparski, and I knew about this witty little series filled with stories about these faded stars of yesteryear — celebrities who would be considered D-list today only appearing in a cable channel reality show) because the first friend I made in Gay Youth was Michael Knowles, who did legwork, research and photography for Richard and receives credits in a number of the volumes.

Today of course, new books would be redundant. Just the other day I was curious about an 80s alternative rock group I loved called Human Sexual Response . I went directly to Wikipedia. Lo and behold, there was a complete entry on them along with follow ups of what became of members of the band after they broke up. For that matter, there is a website devoted to photographs of the graves of the famous, the infamous and the almost forgotten celebrities of the past. Pere Lachaise comes to the web.

And then there’s Google. We all know the guilty pleasure of Googling oneself. Or the disappointment. But what is really interesting is the way we find each other. Last year found a man I hadn’t seen since 1981 when I moved to Japan. He had returned to live in the town in Tennessee where he grew up, and by Googling his name, eventually I came across an entry that had to be him. And just yesterday I received an email out of the blue from a woman I hadn’t seen or heard of since 1981. Of course, there is also the weird experience of finding other people with your name on Google and their very different lives. While my old colleague did reach me by email, she also thought she had heard me on a podcast she downloaded from another site created by a man with the same name as me, another Mark Horn who also happens to write about advertising and business among other things!

At the moment, I am looking for a lot of people I've lost touch with because Gay & Lesbian Youth New York, or Gay Youth when I was a member, is holding a reunion on November 3rd for all the people who were ever in the group, from its inception in 1969. Sad to say, the first place I check for a name that I don’t have a contact for is the Social Security Death Index. Last night though, I was speaking on the phone to someone who had been in the group with me and who I hadn’t spoken to since 1994. He told me that one person I was looking for was listed in the Manhattan phone book. I laughed, because I’d gotten out of the habit of looking in it. And in fact when I went to check I realized that I didn’t have a phone book anymore. Except there really is no replacement online for the local white pages.

By the way, if you’re wondering whatever became of Richard Lamparski, today he lives in Montecito and recently published two new books of memoir material: Manhattan Diary and Hollywood Diary.

And if you know anyone who was either in GY or GLYNY, send them to the GLYNY board for information on the reunion.

Gay Youth, Gay Liberation Front, Gay Activist Alliance Buttons from the 70s

Pack rat that I am, I have saved lots of buttons from the 70s and the gay groups I was in. The three buttons in the top row are all from Gay Youth New York, the first one, top left was designed by Mark Segal (publisher of Philadelphia Gay News) and it was the first GY button, from 1970. The button in the top row far right was designed by John Chiafalo, who was chair after me (and after Bill Agress who left quickly so that when John arrived there was no one in charge). I don't know when the button in the middle was used.

Row two starts with a button from GLF, then the classic lambda button from Gay Activists Aliiance, as well as another GAA button which quotes the Declaration of Independence.

Row three has 3 buttons from the pride parades in the 70s, which was sponsored by the Christoper Street Liberation Day Committee, CSLDC, pronounced, I kid you not, Sizzle-Dick. I believe that the button on the far right was designed by gay artist Ralph Hall.

Below that is a button from the Columbia University gay group, which picked up the lambda symbol. A button from the year of the bicentennial, which shows the liberty bell with a crack that has the shape of the lamda. And a button that was either from GLF, or from the Red Butterfly — a gay communist cell that seemed to have about 5 people in it at any given time.

Bottom row are a couple of more pride march buttons from other years. And in the middle, between rows is a button not associated with any group, but one I loved, with the slogan: Not With My Life You Don't.

Have any buttons from those days yourself? I'd love to see others, since I remember lots of great buttons from that time.

In Memory of Ed Eisenberg: Activist, Artist, Member of Gay Youth in the 70s

Today is the 10th anniversary of the death of the artist/activist Edward Eisenberg. He was not only a member of Gay Youth in the 1970s, but also the Gay Activists Alliance.

He went on to become a  core member of the artist's collective, REPOhistory,  a multi-ethnic group of visual and performance artists, writers, filmmakers, and historians, founded in New York City in 1989. The group took its name from the concept of "repossessing history." Its purpose was to retrieve, relocate and document absent historical narratives at specific sites in New York City, through public installations, performances, educational activities, printed matter and other visual media. REPOhistory sought to question how history is constructed and insert the stories of peoples and events which have been omitted. Their work addressed historical issues of colonialism, race, gender, and class in a context relevant to current histories.

REPOhistory operated as an artist/scholar cooperative through 6 major public projects and many smaller events. Believing the arts essential to shaping a collective cultural identity and the relationship between art, culture and society to be confused, it instigated a questioning of the culture of the 1980s and the early 1990s.

One of Ed's projects was called Groundworks — a city-wide street-stencil project protesting nuclear battleships on Staten Island that noted in each street-stencil the exact distance from these nuclear warships. He was also involved in art projects the documented and protested the ongoing gentrification of the Lower East Side.

When Ed first came to Gay Youth he was rather reserved and shy. A nice Jewish boy who eventually became very politically involved. He grew a beard of rabbinic proportion, and tied his long hair back in a flowing pony tail. He leafleted colleges and high schools with GY and always spoke to the need for a broader awareness of issues beyond the lgbt community. He was also deadpan funny. He was one of the members who was at our reunion in 1994, one of the few who was still politically active.

As I light a yahrtzeit candle in his memory, I will remember to keep his fire alive.

Gay Youth New York, 1970 - Part 2

Ahhh the internet. It's amazing what happens when someone does a search. Just yesterday a professor who was doing research and trying to find a gay poet/performer online came across an earlier entry here on Gay Youth New York in the 70s. He just happened to be completing a book on Gay youth movements in the 70s, had interviewed some folks I know, and had a photo of GYNY at a pride parade in June 1970. These other folks had identified me as one of the people in the photo, except I didn't come to the group until September of 1970. So as the reggae/hip-hop artist so eloquently put it: It wasn't me.

That said, I was happy to receive the photo via email and see some faces I haven't seen since the late 70s. The photo appeared in a collection put out by a magazine I remember from the time called Queens Quarterly, a special edition called Gay Freedom 1970. It wasn't a publication from the borough north of Brooklyn. Copies of this publication exist in a number of lgbt archives. And I am happy to post some of it here for ma and posterity.