IGF CultureWatch

First published August 25, 2004, in the Chicago Free Press.

When I visited Toronto recently with friends we did all the usual things: marveled at Lake Ontario, bought soap at Lush, gazed up at the CN Tower.

And checked out places to get married.

My straight friends were giddy about the idea. They loved being on a quest. They listed possible wedding spots: churches, gardens, lakefront parks, a one-room school house where guests sit at children's desks. Toronto seems to be a paradise for those about to be wed.

My friends drove me by this location or that one. I snapped grainy pictures on my cell phone to show the girlfriend later.

The girlfriend doesn't really know we're getting married. Well, she kind of does. We've talked about it. We've talked vaguely about how a year from September might be good. But even though we've known each other for four years, we haven't really been girlfriends that long, so a year might be pressing it.

But gays and lesbians can get married in Toronto. And unlike in Massachusetts a couple doesn't need to be residents there. So the idea of "Oh, we could get married in Toronto" quickly changed into, "I'm getting married in Toronto!"

Which meant I announced my engagement to everyone I met. And everyone I met seemed just as giddy as the friends I was traveling with.

"Ooooh," said Amy and Michael, the friends of the friends I had gone to visit. I had never met them before but the couple was instantly smitten by the idea of a wedding. "How about the Carlu? There's a round Art Deco room with a fountain in the center."

The fountain sold me. I ignored the dollar-a-minute rate my cell phone company charges to call across the border and rang my girl.

"Hey," I said casually. "How about the Carlu for our wedding? I'm e-mailing you the link."

There was a pause. "I like it," she said. "It's perfect. But, um, I don't quite remember setting a date..."

Oh yeah. That.

But there's something about being somewhere where lesbian weddings are possible that makes one leap over the interim steps. Like living in the same city. Or actually agreeing to be married.

Nevertheless, I soldiered on.

When the toddler with us reached toward sparkly dresses in a boutique window on Queen's Street, we wandered in. The designer's flirty, elegant, floor-length shifts seemed like they'd be ideal for - oh, I don't know - wedding dresses. I almost started jumping up and down.

I tried on a simple gold sheath with a deep red overdress embroidered in gold. Wearing it, I felt like a chic medieval princess. All I needed was a tiara.

"That's lovely on you," the saleswoman cooed.

"I'm thinking about it for my wedding," I said. "But it needs alterations. Do you have a store in Chicago?"

"No, this is it. But Chicago's not that far."

I tossed my head blithely. "Oh, I'm getting married in Toronto anyway. So maybe it wouldn't be a big deal."

She nodded, arranging the bottom of the deep red fabric so that it swirled around my ankles like a train. "Why Toronto?"

"Because I'm a lesbian," I said. "And we can here."

She nodded as if to say, "That makes sense." There was no surprise on her face at all.

I thought back to how Amy and Michael hadn't registered surprise, either, when they found out that I was a lesbian and thus thinking about Toronto as a place to get married. Mostly they were enthusiastic about the idea of a wedding.

And that's when I realized something about weddings that I hadn't quite understood before.

Getting married is not just an entrance to legal equality and government benefits. And it's not just a public witnessing of love and commitment.

Getting married is a cultural rite of passage that validates membership in society - it welcomes you into the club of child-rearing adults, whether or not that's your intention.

When a couple marries, they validate every other marriage that came before, because they are implicitly saying that this is an institution worth perpetuating. And their own new marriage reminds others who married long ago about the hope and joy undergirding their wedding day and about the promises they made to each other.

The enlightened people I met in Toronto understand that. It is less important to them that I'm a lesbian than that I am joining their club by getting married. They can relate to the experience of planning a wedding - or wanting to plan a wedding - whether or not they can relate to my lesbianism. It gives us something to talk about that we can all understand and appreciate. It makes us and them the same.

This is why the argument that gay marriage destroys straight marriage is completely idiotic. Because the opposite is true. Merely by marrying we strengthen marriage. We validate the institution at the same time it validates us.

I didn't buy the dress I saw that day in Toronto, but I did grab a business card and snap a picture. Two steps out of the store, I called my girl.

"I found a wedding dress," I said. "It's perfect."

She laughed. "You know, somehow just you talking about all this wedding stuff gets me excited about it. Maybe we should set a date."

I smiled. "Have I mentioned that the Carlu has a fountain?"

First published February 4, 2004, in the Chicago Free Press.

Some weeks we win.

The other week, in Florida, we lost.

For months we have been waiting for the courts to overturn Florida's 1977 blanket ban on gays and lesbians adopting children. Florida is the only state to have such a ban - most states put the welfare of children first.

The story was well-publicized, especially after the case was taken up by Rosie O'Donnell. Life partners Steve Lofton, a pediatric nurse, and Roger Croteau were bringing up five foster kids, three with HIV. Lofton quit his job to raise them full-time. Then, one of the kids, Bert, who had been placed with Lofton and Croteau when he was an infant, no longer tested positive for HIV. Which means that under Florida law he became "adoptable" - and so the state sought a new home for him.

Lofton and Croteau want to adopt Bert but they couldn't because of the adoption ban. Interestingly, Florida would have given Lofton legal guardianship, which would have taken Bert out of the foster system but also threatened his Medicaid coverage. In other words, Florida found Lofton to be a satisfactory parent - it just didn't want to give him the same full legal authority or financial help a straight man would get automatically.

So with the ACLU's help Lofton went to court. Hopes were high. Lofton seemed an ideal test case. But even though the court admitted that "by all accounts, Lofton's efforts in caring for these children has been exemplary," the 11th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals ruled against Lofton and Croteau and other gay men challenging the law.

If the law is to change, legislators need to change it, the court ruled.

That seems unlikely when the state's governor is Jeb Bush, who responded to the ruling by saying he was pleased. "It is in the best interest of adoptive children, many of whom come from troubled and unstable backgrounds, to be placed in a home anchored by both a father and a mother," he stated.

But we all know this law - and this court decision - aren't in place in order to protect the interests of adopted children. There are 43,000 children in Florida's foster care system (this number includes children waiting to be adopted, as well as children who may be reunited with their families). The majority of these children are minorities and a significant number are children with special needs, like Bert. That means that many of these are children who won't easily be adopted.

But Florida's primary concern isn't that these children get homes. And it isn't worried about the taxpayers supporting these children. And it isn't troubled over the citizens who will be impacted later, when these children, shuffled from home to home without adequate love or nurturing, enter the prison and welfare systems as adults.

As the State of Florida said in its argument, the state is concerned about only one thing: Retaining the right to legislate its "moral disapproval of homosexuality."

And the court, while noting the U.S. Supreme Court's decision in Lawrence vs. Texas, said, "We conclude that it is a strained and ultimately incorrect reading of Lawrence to interpret it to announce a new fundamental right."

Therefore, the court reasoned, Florida isn't violating the Constitution's equal protection clause when it says that gays and lesbians are automatically banned from adopting, no matter what their qualifications. Because gays and lesbians don't have a right to do anything except have sex in the privacy of their own bedrooms.

This is not the way we wanted post-Lawrence life to go. Indeed, it is part of the feared backlash against Lawrence.

Other evidence of the backlash has been cropping up slowly across the country. The Democratic presidential contenders have been trying their hardest (and, I think, wisely) not to make gay issues a central part of their campaigns. Support for civil unions and same-sex marriage has been steadily dropping in polls. And also last month the Ohio legislature passed a Defense of Marriage Act that would make the state the 38th to limit marriage to a union between a man and a woman.

This backlash is not only impacting adult gays and lesbians. It is impacting entire families. It is impacting children like Bert, who can be ripped from their homes - or never placed in homes - because the state is terrified about what gay couples might do in their bedrooms.

So yes, we lost last week. And maybe if it were only the gay and lesbian community who lost, it wouldn't be so bad. But Florida's foster care children lost. They are hurt most by this law and this ruling, which we hope the U.S. Supreme Court will overturn.

Until then Florida will remain a state more committed to its backward, pinched view of the world than to its citizens - young and old.

Originally published January 28, 2004, in the Chicago Free Press.

So there are two questions many lesbians have been asking for the past couple of weeks:

1. "What do you think of The L Word ?" and
2. "Which woman turns you on?"

The answer to the first question is usually either "I love it" or "It's shallow but I watch it anyway."

The second question, however, seems to divide lesbians into three camps.

Shane, the "love-'em and leave-'em" bad girl played by Katherine Moenning either inspires intense lust or absolute hate. She seems to be favored by lesbians seeking danger.

Dana, the closeted tennis pro (Erin Daniels), is winning over sportsdykes. And Marina (Karina Lombard), the seducer of the innocent, straight Jenny (Mia Kirshner), is favored by - OK, I'm not sure who she's favored by. I just know that every time I gush over her, someone else does, too.

Think what this means. Someday all we'll need to do to find out if we're compatible with someone new is ask them which woman they like on The L Word and pray we're a fit. We could even gloss over the awkward pick-up-line chatter. Imagine walking into a coffee shop, seeing a cute girl, straightening your baseball cap and then querying, "Dana?"

If she responds, "Oh, I love her" you stay and chat.

If she shakes her head sadly and replies, "Shane," you know to move on-before you've slept with her and adopted two of her cats.

The L Word could change how we interact forever.

It's already had an impact. I've ever seen this much speculation and talk about lesbians in the mainstream press. Queer Eye is still the show that more straight folks are familiar with but I'm sure The L Word will develop a following. The straight women who've seen it with me enjoyed it.Also, I've seen three episodes. (I know you've only seen two. I have two words for you: review copies. I'm trying to keep myself from stealing a peek at the Episode Four but it's very, very hard).

This is what I have to say: Every week gets better.

No, there isn't much diverse representation. The L Word lesbians are all thin and femme, which might represent the girls in Los Angeles but certainly only applies to a small segment in Chicago.

And that first week it felt like we were watching lesbian porn designed for a straight audience. There was plenty of femme-on-femme lesbian sex for the men (there was even a potential three-way with a guy) and enough heterosexual sex thrown in to keep straight women happy.

It's not that lesbians didn't enjoy the sex. And it's good for a straight audience to see lesbians having good sex within the context of a relationship. It's just that the sex didn't seem meant for us and in a show about lesbians that was really disappointing.

But by Episode Two the show really is all about the characters. There's less forced novelty around the idea of being lesbians. Talk about "nipple confidence" and "vagina revitalization" has faded away. Instead The L Word focuses in on just a few stories, like any good ensemble show.

This leads me to think that there are many, many good things about The L Word. It helps a straight audience view our lives as ordinary, filled with similar heartbreaks and joys. It makes us seem cool and exotic instead of flannel-wearing and angry. It introduces the in-jokes of our community to the outside world-for example, gaydar, the U-Haul factor and the idea that lesbians date all their friends.

All this helps straight, cable-watching America understand us and understanding leads to a decrease in fear. Hopefully that decrease in fear will eventually lead to acceptance.

And there are other goods. The L Word is basically a primer for women who are just coming out. It does a pretty good job of explaining how we interact and why. Plus it's reassuring to those of us who've been out for a long time to see representations of ourselves that are chic instead of sad.

But the best thing about The L Word is that, so far, no one has been punished for being a lesbian - though Dana, the tennis pro seeking endorsements, may run into some trouble. Clearly we have made a quantum leap forward from the days of The Well of Loneliness and The Children's Hour.

No, wait.

The best thing about The L Word is that there are enough lesbians on the show to help straight people see that we're individuals. And to remind ourselves that even though we may have many things in common we should not stuff ourselves into stereotypical boxes because we're not actually all the same.

After all, there are Shane girls and there are Mariana girls.

On Nov. 2, the Episcopal Church consecrated their first gay bishop. This is the highest church rank an openly gay person has achieved in any major Christian church.

Gene V. Robinson, the new bishop of New Hampshire, is extraordinarily brave. People have called on him to step down. A maelstrom of publicity has swirled about him. His consecration ceremony was attended by 4,000 who greeted him with a standing ovation‹but a spokesman for 38 opposing bishops also spoke during the ceremony, saying that Robinson's " 'chosen lifestyle' is incompatible with Scripture and the teachings of this church," according to the Associated Press.

Most commentators on the church expect the result to be a split between the congregations who support Robinson and the more conservative "confessing congregations" who don't.

That's a lot of pressure on one man - the knowledge that he is the catalyst for the church he clearly loves breaking apart.

Yet it has never been clearer that one man is doing the right thing.

No one can predict the future of course, but I say this with certainty: the world will not end as a result of Robinson's consecration. The sky will not fall. The church, yes, will probably split - but churches have split before and survived.

And really, it is not Robinson who is splitting the church. It is the conservatives who are pulling away, who have announced they are unable to commit to working through these issues. They are breaking up this marriage of churches because they are unwilling to see their own faults, unwilling to recognize that on this they may be wrong.

Robinson said, "They must know that if they must leave, they will always be welcomed back."

But they won't come back. They were waiting for the more liberal churches to do something like this; they were eager to take their stand against the gays and lesbians who had previously huddled at the fringes of church life. The conservatives are willing to carve a church to pieces in order to protect the blinders of their own bigotry.

It's ridiculous, really - are gays and lesbians really such a great evil that they cannot be countenanced by the rest of the church? I mean, the Episcopalians once didn't ordain women, either (the Bible commands that women keep silent in the churches, after all) and there was great controversy around that - but gays and lesbians are somehow more sinister.

So there will be a backlash against Robinson. A gigantic, church-shaking earthquake of a backlash.

But the end result will be tranquility.

Why? Because people are adaptable. They are afraid of what they don't know - they are afraid of what might happen. But when the Episcopalians realize that their church is still the same church, that their lives are still the same prayerful lives, then the pressure on Robinson will ease and things will go on.

Soon, even most anti-gay (or uncertain about gays) Episcopalians will realize that Robinson's choice of life partner doesn't affect their own lives of faith at all. Life will continue the way it always has.

That's why it's important that Robinson didn't step down. By not bowing to the pressure - by staying firm in the face of increasing world adversity and in the knowledge that history books would note that he was the cause of perhaps the worst Episcopal split in the history of the church - Robinson has advanced the civil rights of all of us.

But Robinson alone is not enough. One person can always be considered an exception, as in: "I like you, of course, but you?re an exception - you're not like those other gays and lesbians out there."

What Robinson needs is for other gay and lesbian bishops to join him - not just in his church, but in other churches. He needs other gay and lesbian clergy to be open in their sexual orientation, to teach their congregations that leaders are leaders no matter whom they fall in love with. He needs gays and lesbian clergy around the world to stand beside him - and beside their gay and lesbian members - despite the negative publicity, and despite the chance that they could lose their livelihoods and be thrown out of their own churches. He needs all of us to pressure our own denominations to accept and elevate gay clergy to higher offices.

There are, of course, many brave gay and lesbian clergy who are already doing all these things. They marry same-sex couples against the wishes of their denominations. They introduce their partners into the regular give and take of church life. They rail against bigotry. They may be unsung on the national stage (or they might be demonized, depending how prominent they are) but they are all gay and lesbian heroes. They are changing the churches one strong example at a time.

And changing the churches is important, because it hits people at the core of their belief system. Because of this, Robinson is not just incidentally important. He's not just a footnote to a controversy. He is the key that will help change thousands of hearts.

All we need is for other clergy - and other congregations - to join him in pushing through the door.

We all know that young gays, bisexuals, lesbians and transgenders have a particularly hard time. At their most vulnerable moment, the time in which they are exploring and creating their independent identities - and the time in which many come out to themselves - they have very few safe spaces. Worse, those safe spaces usually don?t include the classroom.

At school, GLBT students are bullied verbally and harassed physically. They see few images of themselves reflected in classroom study or in open, happy gay teachers (who often themselves fear for their jobs). They must also deal with anti-gay talk that permeates the hallways, whether or not it is directed at them: for example, when a straight student calls another straight student a fag, or when a student uses gay as an epithet.

And unlike workers, who may be able to change jobs if they find themselves in a hostile environment, public school students must stay where they are or drop out.

That's why many gays and lesbians are supporting the first gay public school in the country, the Harvey Milk High School in New York, which will open in the fall. It sounds like a good idea, right?

Not to me.

This surprises even myself, since I know the power of, well, homogeneity. I went to a women's college and I know the bonds that form when people who are similar in some way share an educational experience. I know the empowerment that comes from having strong role models and educational materials that reflect who you are. I know what a change it can make when the messages around you are all positive and nurturing.

I also know the statistics. Over 40 percent of LGBT students don't feel safe in their schools. 28 percent drop out annually. 69 percent admit they've been harassed. And they are still three times more likely to commit suicide.

Yet I don't find the Harvey Milk High School empowering. I find it disturbing. It is an admission of failure.

That's because this one school can simply not do enough to correct the problem. Only 170 students will be selected for admission to Harvey Milk, yet there are thousands of gay kids in the New York public school system. In fact, the Heitrick-Martin Institute, which will run the school in partnership with the New York public school system, estimates that there are 100,000 LGBT students in New York City. That means that very, very few, just over 1 percent, will be able to be in this new, nurturing environment.

Sure, those lucky 170 will be tucked safely away in their all-gay classes. But there will still be gay, lesbian and transgender students in the other New York City public schools - and I guarantee you, many of them will continue to be harassed and bullied. As Mayor Michael Bloomberg himself admitted in a press briefing, - I think everybody feels that it's a good idea because some of the kids who are gays and lesbians have been constantly harassed and beaten in other schools. It lets them get an education without having to worry. It solves a discipline problem. And from a pedagogical point of view, this administration - and previous administrations - have thought it was a good idea and we'll continue with that."

The hearts of those who decided to start Harvey Milk are undoubtedly in the right place. But where are their heads? What will happen to those other students? This new school - and this new segregation - will take the pressure off teachers, administrators and Mayor Bloomberg to promote real reform. Because now, when faced with complaints, administrators, legislators and others will be able to simply point them toward Harvey Milk instead of doing the hard work of changing the culture in the schools.

Also, segregation is just a bad idea for public schools. That was true back when policy makers tried to separate black and white students and it's true now. It might solve administrative hassles, but it hinders social education.

Public schools are under funded - and the children who go there are often under educated. But the one advantage to public schools, especially urban public schools, is that kids get exposed to all sorts of cultural, ethnic and, yes, sexual orientation diversity.

And the more students are exposed to different kinds of people in a non-threatening setting, the less likely they are to grow up to be racist or homophobic themselves.

Also, high school is when a lot of students start to question their sexual orientation. Some gays and lesbians have known all their lives that they are gay. But heterosexuality is so deeply ingrained in our culture that many more don?t realize it until much later. Can you imagine the pressure of simultaneously applying for a school and worrying if you're gay enough to go?

Though the school will be open to all students gay and straight, the practical reality will likely be that only kids who are comfortable with their gayness or their straightness already - not those who are questioning - will actually apply. But it is exactly those students who will most positively affect the straight students around them.

Do gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender kids need a space where they can be with others like them? Yes. In a support group or a LGBTQ club.

Do they need a space where they can be free of harassment and bullying? Yes. Gay students should be safe in the classroom and hallways of any public school. We can't win that fight by simply shuttling them elsewhere.

Originally appeared July 23, 2003, in the Chicago Free Press.

Some people have a problem with Bravo's new television show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."

Some commentators think that it only pushes the gay community back into stereotype - that it's labeling gay men as fluffy and shallow, interested only in surface and not in substance.

I can see why they're worried. But I saw the first two episodes during the show's premiere last week. And I loved them.

In fact, I think "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" might be one of the best shows for our community in a long time.

In "Queer Eye," the five gay experts make over a skanky straight guy into someone of whom women will approve. Every week there is a mission: in the first episode, it was preparing the aptly nicknamed Butch for his first art opening. In the second, it was throwing a birthday party for Adam's neglected wife.

The gay team works together. Kyan Douglas is the "grooming guru." Ted Allen (a former senior editor for Chicago magazine who is now a contributing editor to Esquire) is in charge of refining a guy's sense of food and wine and helping him learn to make appetizers. Carson Kressley is the flaming fashionista. Jai Rodriguez is the culture cutie, who also teaches the finer points of socializing. And Thom Filicia makes a straight guy's pad look like it was designed by‹well, a gay guy.

At the start of each episode, the "Fab Five" scream up in their black SUV. They explode into the straight guy's home, making catty (and very funny) comments about everything from the guy's decorating style to his facial hair (Adam had a monobrow) to his underwear. That part's pretty intimidating.

But then, an amazing thing happens. The straight guy bonds with the gay guys. And we watch it happen. By the end, there's often a round of hugging. At the end of the second episode, straight guy Adam looks around his newly done house with tears in his eyes. He fingers his beautiful new suit. "My house is your house," he says mistily.

And the audience is not surprised at this, because except for the initial rampage, the five experts are startlingly kind and insightful.

They don't throw out Adam's beloved hockey jerseys, though they get rid of nearly everything else in his closet. They don't make Butch wear anything too fashionable or feminine. In short, they're not trying to make the straight guys over into gay guys - they're just trying to help the straight guys understand that it's all right to want to look attractive and live in a nice home.

The subtext seems to be that taking care of oneself and one's surroundings doesn't make a man less masculine. It doesn't make him more - well, gay. It just makes him more happily himself.

As Carson says cheerfully to Butch, "We're not trying to change you - we're trying to make you better."

And they do this first by making style decisions that fit the straight guinea pig's personality and then by cheering him on as he hesitantly makes changes. They shower him with the kind of warm approval straight men rarely get from other men, telling him how great he's doing and how handsome he looks.

Everyone should have such supportive fairy godmothers. But there's another factor that makes the show a success for our community.

The straight men are well screened (or the show is well edited) and so the straight men come across as very, very comfortable with the gay men.

This is vital, because these five men are not the straight-acting, straight appearing kind of gay men. They are not assimilated. They are GAY, honey. Carson in particular is over the top. He jokes about getting into Butch's underwear. He jokes about helping out in the shower. He offers to unbutton Butch's pants to help tuck in his shirt.

In other words, he's hitting on them, which is what straight men seem to fear most about gay guys.

But instead of punching him in response, the straight men play it cool. They joke back or turn the comment aside or ignore it. In other words, they act mature about it. And by doing this, they broadcast the clear message that being hit on by a gay man is OK. It's not the precursor to violence. It's just flattering conversation.

And those are the moments that might help turn the culture around for us. Because straight men aren't afraid of gay men who look and act like them - they think of those kinds of gay men as exceptions. They're afraid of the gay men who are gaily gay, the kind who strut their stuff in Pride Parades, who haunt dark bars and public bathrooms, and who swish around on TV.

So Bravo is doing us all a public service. Because by giving us weekly examples of the differences between gay men and straight men - and by making gay men seem not only unthreatening but downright helpful - Bravo is showing America that we really all can get along.

Originally appeared April 30, 2003, in the Chicago Free Press. This is a slightly revised version.

THE RECENT FLAP about anti-gay comments made by U.S. Sen. Rick Santorum, R-Pa., is misleading.

Santorum's remarks aren't just heinous because they smear gays and lesbians.

Sure, he did engage in obvious gay baiting, ingenuously comparing gay sex to bigamy, polygamy, adultery and uh, "man on dog."

But that's just garden-variety conservative bigotry. By saying such things, Santorum insured - intentionally or not - that his real agenda would be hidden by the ensuing controversy about whether his comments were anti-gay enough to force him to step down.

Certainly his comments are slurs on gays and lesbians. But he's a religious conservative, so that's not a surprise. What's really shocking is that Santorum didn't attack only gays and lesbians. He attacked every adult woman and man in America.

Because what he really said in that Associated Press interview is that he's against an American right to privacy.

That's right. Santorum wants to peer into your bedroom. Or at least he wants the government to regulate what happens there - whether you're gay or straight.

As Santorum himself says, he has no problems with gays. What he doesn't like is sex, unless it happens with a man, a woman and a wedding ring.

This is what he said to an apparently shocked AP reporter in an April 7 interview published last week, when asked about his views of the scandals that occurred within the Catholic Church:

"Again, it goes back to this moral relativism, which is very accepting of a variety of different lifestyles. And if you make the case that if you can do whatever you want to do as long as it's in the privacy of your own home, this "right to privacy," then why be surprised that people are doing things that are deviant within their own home? If you say, there is no deviant as long as it's private, as long as it's consensual, then don't be surprised what you get...."

But it gets worse. In the transcript of the interview, provided by AP, Santorum then made a reference to Lawrence vs. Texas, the sodomy case currently before the U.S. Supreme Court.

He said, "...And if the Supreme Court says that you have the right to consensual sex within your home, then you have the right to bigamy, you have the right to polygamy, you have the right to incest, you have the right to adultery. You have the right to anything. Does that undermine the fabric of our society? I would argue yes, it does."

I won't get into his fallacy of comparing consensual sex with adultery, etc. But notice Santorum didn't say, "right to consensual gay sex." He said "right to consensual sex." And I don't think it's a slip of the tongue. I think that Santorum, and others like him, really mean it. To them, sex and sexuality in any form other than a rigid husband-and-wife definition is dangerous. If a sexual relationship isn't solemnized by the state or the church (and preferably both) than it has no right to exist.

Since just over half of Americans are married, Santorum is basically saying that the rest of us should be celibate. Not just gays and lesbians - everybody.

As Tom Ferrick, Jr., of the Philadelphia Inquirer, noted in a column, Santorum doesn't like the right to privacy because the Supreme Court has (with a few notable exceptions, like Bowers vs. Hardwick) fairly consistently ruled that an American's right to make his or her own decisions about his or her body and relationships surpasses the religious, conservative impulse to regulate morality.

Hence, abortion is legal, as is contraception. African-Americans can marry Caucasians without fear of fines or imprisonment. Children aren't compelled to attend government schools. People can buy pornography for their personal use. We have much of the personal freedoms we take for granted because the state assumes that Americans have the right to privacy (well, at least the state assumed that before U.S. Attorney General John Ashcroft came along).

Yet Santorum went on to explain that the right to privacy is a dangerous fiction. "It all comes from, I would argue, this right to privacy that doesn't exist in my opinion in the United States Constitution," he said.

"...You say, well, it's my individual freedom. Yes, but it destroys the basic unit of our society because it condones behavior that's antithetical to strong, healthy families.... The idea is that the state doesn't have rights to limit individuals' wants and passions. I disagree with that. I think we absolutely have rights because there are consequences to letting people live out whatever wants or passions they desire."

Santorum and other advocates of banishing the right to privacy don't explain how regulating personal, consensual behavior at this level will strengthen families. They just assume it will. They don't see that putting the finer points of individual and family life in control of the state practically ensures unhappiness - and pushes us closer to a dictatorship than to a democracy.

That's why Santorum is frightening. He's not just after gays and lesbians - if he were, maybe enough lobbying, positive contact, and pro-gay polling in his home state would eventually being him around. He's after all of us who want to right to be in charge of our own lives and relationships.

Originally appeared March 26, 2003, in the Chicago Free Press.

"King & King," a children's book by Dutch authors Linda de Haan and Stern Nijland, begins ordinarily enough.

A grouchy queen wants her lazy son to get married - so she decrees that he must find a princess by the end of the summer.

"Very well, Mother," he says. "I must say, though, I've never cared much for princesses."

The prince's young attendant gives a sly wink.

Even so, princesses trot in from every corner of the globe for his inspection. From Texas. From Greenland. From Mumbai. Yet the prince is bored, unhappy. No young lady seems just right.

Then Princess Madeline enters. The young prince perks up. He has found love!

But it is not with the princess. It is with her brother, Prince Lee. Little hearts flow between them on the page. There is handholding, a kiss and a marriage - and of course a happily ever after.

Gay and lesbian couples with young children are already familiar with the lovely "King & King," which debuted a year ago this month (and three years ago in the more progressive Netherlands, which in 2000 approved gay marriage). But Chicago Tribune columnist Dawn Turner Trice was not - and she was appalled.

Price learned about the book from "concerned parents" at the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools, a private school originally founded by philosopher John Dewey as a place of hands-on experience. Every year, the Lab Schools' children think critically about children's books, judging their merits and awarding the Zena Sutherland Award to their favorites. They read books chosen by their librarians and narrow them down to five multicultural, multiracial finalists that represent both genders.

But this year, Trice says in her column, one of the finalists - "King & King" - "has upset some parents who felt that they should have been notified that their parents were reading a book that deals with homosexuality."

Though Trice calls the book "well-conceived," she compares it with other "sexual material" like song lyrics and suggestive clothing. "So at least, in my mind," she says, "that makes this column less about bigotry and narrow-mindedness (although some parents certainly found the content of "King & King" disturbing) than about parents helping kids stay kids in an oversexed society."

Trice, who is African-American, also acknowledges that in years past, some parents would have flipped out over the fact that prince is considering a "mocha-colored" princess from Mombai. "Which emphasizes the fact that the line that governs what's acceptable continues to move for some even though it remains steadfast for others," she says.

Nevertheless, she added, she wouldn't show the book to her own second grader just yet. "When it's time to talk about such things, I may pull the book out," she says. "But I would like to have that choice." Parents should be warned, she says, before being forced to discuss homosexuality or sex with their children.

What Trice is forgetting, of course, is that "King & King" is no more about sex than is any of a hundred other fairy tales, from Disney's beloved Cinderella and Snow White to The Little Mermaid. (Of course, the original, more graphic and gory folktales may, indeed, be about sex, but for the most part we have sanitized them for our children.) "King & King" is about the social rituals and inner attractions of love and partnership.

Even if it were about sex, she is ignoring that no parent is able to choose the timeline for their children's curiosity. No families live in a bubble. Children may ask about sex at three when they see a dog mounting

another dog or when another child mentions something about it on the playground at eight - or they might never ask. When is a parent ever truly ready for their children to grow up?

But most importantly, Trice is forgetting one crucial fact: not only will some children at Lab grow up to be gay themselves, but some children who attend Lab have parents who are lesbian or gay. I don't know where Trice's child goes, but it is likely that her second grader also knows children who come from gay families.

As results continue to come in from the 2000 census, we have recently learned that one-third of the nearly 300,000 lesbian couples and one-fifth of the slightly more than 300,000 male couples who identified themselves as "unmarried partners" are living with children under 18. In conservative states, as many as 40 percent of the lesbian "unmarried partners" are raising children.

In fact, says the Washington Post, "43 percent of unmarried couples living together [including both gay and straight couples] are raising children, nearly matching the 46 percent figure for the nation's married couples. And the trend is climbing for unmarried couples, while it is becoming less and less common for married couples to have children living with them."

The number of children with gay and lesbian parents is rising as more gays and lesbians take the mother (and father) road; and as more and more children of gay parents spread through the school system, straight parents will need to face the reality that their child's best friend may well have two mommies or two daddies.

That means that Dawn Turner Trice and other parents like her need to wake up and smell the lavender. Gay families exist. They are everywhere. And yes, just like all families, they are about love.

Originally appeared March 20, 2002, in the Chicago Free Press.

I have seen the post-gay world, and it serves really good beer.

My girlfriend and I were having dinner at a restaurant and bar nestled on the edge of the gay-friendly Chicago neighborhood of Andersonville, when we looked around.

The barkeep was a transwoman. There was a gay waiter and a lesbian chef. A group of gay men were flirting on the high barstools.

But something was missing.

There was no rainbow sticker on the door. Or neon rainbow in the window. Or anything external to denote this establishment as a gay bar.

And do you know why?

It isn't one.

T's calls itself a place "for everyone" and surprisingly, it really is. The same night we were there, two straight couples were playing pool. In fact, T's manages to be a place where it is as comfortable to bring your parents for dinner or straight friends for a drink as it is to flirt with a same-sex stranger or kiss your girlfriend. Perhaps even more amazingly, it is equally welcome to men and women-unlike a majority of places in gay ghettos, where gay men are often made uncomfortable in lesbian bars and vice versa.

T's is able to be most things to most people because it intentionally reaches out to all of its constituencies. It hosts regular womens' nights, sponsors gay sports teams and employs gay staff - but it also employs straight staff, and has events that also appeal to straight folks, such as Superbowl Sunday parties and the recent run of a quirky play devoted to drinking and writing.

In fact, T's is a pretty good representation of what it might be like to live in an (ideal) post-gay world.

What do I mean by post gay? I mean a world where gay couples aren't stared at, commented on or (heaven forbid) battered as they walk down the street holding hands or kissing.

I mean a world where being gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgendered is interesting in the same way that learning that someone is left-handed or a twin is interesting - it is a fact about the individual that affects their worldview, but says nothing about his or her character, interests or politics.

By post gay, I mean a world where a lesbian marriage or a gay man in the military or a transgendered president is barely even remarked upon by the media gauntlet.

I first started imagining a post-gay world when I learned that a friend who worked part time as an advisor to a lesbitrans community at a Boston-area women's college no longer had a job.

"The students decided there was no need for an advisor anymore," my friend's life-partner told me. "They fit in fine and they just want to be students, not lesbian students or bi students."

The lesbians at this particular college can do this because their needs are being met. They face little discrimination or prejudice from the student body or administration. In fact, there is constant outreach to their community from faculty, staff and administrators. If students need something or are concerned about something, it is not difficult to find a friendly ear tuned to their frequency. They don't have to stay in their emotional or physical gay ghetto to be safe, because they feel safe where ever they are on campus.

For these lucky students, there's nothing to fight for and so they don't have to fight - they can just be.

There are pockets of places around the world like this - not only my own neighborhood of Andersonville (and upon closer reflection, most of it seems to be post-gay, not just this one bar), but also the Chicago suburb of Oak Park, the small college towns of Northampon, Mass. and Madison, Wis., parts of New York and Paris and most of San Francisco, Amsterdam and Stockholm.

The entire world, unfortunately, will likely never be post-gay. There will always be small redneck towns and large, unfriendly cities where gay people are not welcome. That's because post-gay places need a combination of things to make them possible: anti-discrimination laws, a strong gay and lesbian community, and a marketplace and political establishment that's responsive and pro-active to our needs. Being post-gay is more than cold tolerance; it is an understanding that GLBTs offer unique contributions that benefit everyone and should be sought out.

A post-gay world, which can only happen after the end of discrimination, isn't a place where we are all the same - it is a place where the needs of each of us are met equally. A place where we all feel safe and welcome. So in a post-gay bar, a lesbian might come to play pool after softball and a gay man might be flirting with his new lover while sitting next to a straight man doing the same thing.

A post-gay world is one where we are all just folks, sitting around talking and having a really good beer.

Originally appeared March 20, 2002, in the Chicago Free Press.

Celebrities, like ordinary folks, come out for a variety of reasons.

Some do it because they are tired of hiding and the psychological pressure of concealing their true identity becomes too much.

Some do it because they have no choice-they were outed.

Some do it to seem cooler to younger people, or to give a shot of adrenaline to a faltering career.

Some do it because they have been swayed by the strong argument that America's comfort with gays and lesbians is dependent on our visibility. And then we have Rosie.

For years, many of us have been calling on Rosie O'Donnell to come out. We mentioned the sly way she alluded to being a lesbian; we noted that she appeared with her partner in public. People like her, we said. With Rosie on our side, people might not be so quick to say that they don't know any gays or lesbians.

Yet for the longest time, Rosie didn't come out. She wouldn't come out. She would joke and hint and wink, but the word "lesbian" didn't cross her lips when she was speaking to the public.

And so we were mad at her.

But it seems that Rosie knew best all along. Because by picking her moment, she has sparked a national conversation about gay and lesbian adoption. Now she is proving that if anyone can change hearts in the heartland when it comes to adopting children, it is Rosie.

Last week, Rosie, who has three young, adopted children, spoke honestly and openly to Diane Sawyer about why it is unfair that gays and lesbians can't adopt children in Florida.

"I don't think it negates your skills as a parent if you1re homosexual," she said in her friendly, straightforward way. "I do think the kids will get teased and in some capacity that's very sad, and eventually I think that it will stop. ... Would it be easier for them if I were married to a man? It probably would. But as I said to my son, Parker, if you were to have a daddy, you wouldn't have me as a mommy. Because I'm the kind of mommy who wants another mommy."

Rosie is coming forward now because she recently learned that even though she can parent foster children in Florida, where she keeps a second home, a 1977 law prohibits adoption of those same children by any gays and lesbians, including herself.

Then she learned of a gay couple, Steve Lofton and Roger Croteau, who are in a similar predicament.

Lofton and Croteau are raising five HIV-positive children. Three of those are foster children; two were adopted in Oregon. But one of the foster children, Bert, 10, no longer tests positive for HIV. And because he is under 14, says the ACLU, "he is now considered �adoptable." Which means that the state of Florida is actively seeking another home for Bert, even though he has been raised by Lofton and Croteau since he was nine weeks old.

Lofton and Croteau have joined other parents in a lawsuit fighting against Florida's law against gay adoption, the most conservative adoption law in the country. Now, "for the first time ever," says an ACLU statement, "a federal appeals court is weighing the constitutionality of banning gay adoption."

Florida's law against gay and lesbian adoption - even when those same gays and lesbians are approved foster parents - would be simply silly if it didn't break so many hearts and break up so many loving families.

There are a half million children in foster care in the United States, and 3,400 who are waiting for adoption in Florida. Nationally, 25,000 kids a year leave the foster care system not because they were adopted, but because they became too old. Few people want to adopt physically or mentally ill children.

Croteau and Lofton are two of those few. There is no logical reason why they can't adopt the children they have raised. It is simply anti-gay bigotry.

In her interview, Rosie made this clear. "It takes a lot to become a foster parent," she told Sawyer. "You have to really want to save a child who others have deemed unsaveable. And for the state of Florida to tell anyone who's willing, capable, and able to do that, that they're unworthy, is wrong."

Rosie's interview has already changed minds.

On ABC's web page, one viewer commented, "Before tonight's show, I would say I was definitely against gay adoption. I do believe the gay life style is a sin. However ... I believe [some] sins do not carry more weight than others. So with that in mind, carrying out Florida's thinking, people who commit adultery are not fit to be parents, people who take the Lord's name in vain should not parents. Ideally, I would like to see kids with a mom and a dad, but it doesn't look likely for most foster kids. So any permanent loving and nurturing home is better than none."

That someone who seems to be a Christian fundamentalist would move that far in his or her position on gay adoption in the space of a two-hour interview is nothing short of a miracle.

By waiting to come out until she felt like she had a compelling reason, by worrying less about her public than about a vital cause, Rosie O'Donnell has done a great good. She has taken it upon herself to give the abstract idea of "gay parents" a human face - and better, a beloved face.

"I don't think America knows what a gay parent looks like: I am the gay parent," Rosie said.

All we can hope for is that America will take her message to heart the way they have taken her television show into their homes.