If I was in college today, with the same longing for peace and equality I had then and have now, I’d be in a tent protesting the slaughter of 34,000 women and children by a country with limitless weapons of war. In fact, I did.
The Wise Snowy Owl
Brian McNaught has been an author and educator on LGBTQ issues since 1974. Former Congressman Barney Frank said of Brian, “No one has done a better job of chronicling what it’s like to grow up gay."
The publisher of my memoir informed me that it has been “on hold” because of other projects. It’s coming, but I was upset, as I thought we were close to the release date.
“Oil.” The Tin Man asked for what he needed to keep moving. He had been stuck in place for a long time, but with the help of strangers, he danced again on the Yellow Brick Road.
At a recent dinner for Human Rights Watch, it was speculated by people at my table that the reason there were fewer people attending than the year before was, in part, because of the HRW report that concluded Israel was guilty of apartheid-like treatment of Arabs in their territory.
It can take a lifetime to feel that we’re finally in our own skin; that we’ve comfortably grown into the person we imagined ourselves being. Some people feel fully at ease with themselves early in life, but I think that’s uncommon. One important contributing factor is whether we care about what others think of us, both while we’re living and after we’ve passed on.
The governor of Alabama banned my life’s work. Privileged, white, conservative politicians, like Florida’s Ron DeSantis, are trying to prohibit any education on diversity, equity, and inclusion in public schools, from kindergarten on. This is a much bigger deal than you might imagine.
“How did your parents react when you came out?” is the first question I’ve been asked by members of the audience in my 50 years of public speaking.
Lily Tomlin’s 6-year-old Edith Ann character said, “I’ve been told that I’m bossy.”
“The lady in the green blazer said she’s going to throw up when you walk into the room.”
The picture we use to remind us of Harvey Milk is one of him smiling. The photo used to remind us of Matthew Shepherd is that of a beautiful, blond waif. We’re not asked to remember Harvey lying on the floor bleeding out, nor Matthew tied to a fence, beaten and left to die.
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