Why Same-Sex Marriage is a Threat to Society

...and why we want to keep it that way.

Okay, it's 10 pm, so I'm going to assume that everyone knows what happened already.
The California State Supreme Court upheld the passage of Proposition 8, ratifying the decision made by voters last year to ban same-sex marriage.
If you're into legal jargon and have time to read 185 pages of it (WHAT?! Seems like an awful lot, when "discrimination" is only one word), the pdf can be found here.

Now wait, before you go getting your American Apparel boyshorts into a bunch, consider the direction in which you're focusing your anger. On the surface, it's really easy to become outraged at the blatant refusal of "rights" and the all-too-typical refusal by the government to acknowledge that, yep, queers are people too. But, like everything else, the issue goes much deeper once deconstructed.

1. Majority sucks
And by that, I mean majority rules.
When it comes down to the really bare-bones, unemotional, unsentimental machine that is our lawmaking body, we need to remember that for the California Supreme Court to overturn Prop 8 would be to outright deny the voting process, as well as the power of the people (no matter how wrong they may be). It's that simple. The Court refused to overturn the decision of the public. Imagine if Prop 8 was turned down in November instead, and it was brought to the Supreme Court again, this time to achieve the opposite goal. The very idea that seven people would be able to overturn the decision of thousands (who made the right decision) would be absolutely mortifying, and there would be nationwide protests in the streets.

Oh wait, there already are.

So here's the thing. All this evening there have been protests/rallies/riots (too optimistic?) opposing the Supreme Court's decision. Anger and disappointment and frustrating directed at the seven justices, not at those who in November were really responsible for the passage of Prop 8--the voters, the heterosexist, homophobic culture itself. We shouldn't be rioting in the streets for one day because a court upheld a decision, we should be out and loud and resisting every fucking day because the decision made today is nothing more than a slight reflection of the culture in which we live.

2. "I mean, I'm not surprised, but..."
This has been a resounding qualifier used by queers and our allies all day before stating our disappointment. Doesn't it seem a bit strange that we take it completely for granted that we have no faith in our government to uphold or even grant us rights? Why are we unsurprised that our government refuses to acknowledge us as real people? Just think about that. We are so conditioned to believe that we are undeserving of being treated fairly that we are completely unsurprised that we are not being granted rights. I said it once, and I'll say it again, if the state refuses to accept me as a real person, then I refuse to accept them as my lawmaking body.

To quote a wise (read: badass anarchist) friend:

all i have to say (as per usual) is that government has never seen citizens, but as human capital for their projects of wealth. rights are something given and allowed by the state. fuck rights, i'll take my freedom right from their goddamn hands by any means necessary.

3. I don't believe in Modern Love, or Call It Off
Yeah, that's right. I just simultaneously referenced David Bowie and Tegan and Sara.
So why do we give a fuck about getting married anyway? Please, please don't get me wrong. I am not calling every queer who wants to hit up the chapel (or town hall or whatever) an assimilationist or obsessed with "trying to be straight." I know that, for some people, marriage means a lot in terms of sentiment and love and all those things written on Hallmark cards. And that's fine.

The problem is that one of the main arguments made in favor of same-sex marriage is that the lack thereof is preventing couples from attaining rights (healthcare, visitation rights, ease of adoption, financial aid, etc etc). But allowing same-sex couples to get married is only a band-aid solution to this problem. A straw man, if you will.

It's not the fact that same-sex couples have to fight for marriage equality, it's that marriage is necessary to reap the benefits that the government so graciously allows these couples. This further instills in us the societal idea that marriage is the only way to validate self-worth or success or happiness. Feminists know this already. The battle over marriage not only supports the idea that one can only be acceptable if they follow the old go-to-school-get-married-have-children-be-productive-to-the-state deal, it also takes the sentimental value out of what marriage should be, a symbol of love and committment, not fraud and an easy way to get money from the government.

4. Rebel, Rebel
All that being said, the passage of same-sex marriage would be pretty fucking sweet to throw in the face of heteronormative society. It would force Americans to acknowledge that, yep, we're real and we are redefining the institution that you weilded for so long as a weapon against us. It would be like a big metaphorical middle finger with a wedding band on it.

Yeah, we're real, and we won't shut the fuck up, and we want our freedom, and we have SEX, whoa, yes, scary non-hetersexual sex both in and out of wedlock because we don't give a fuck about your standards of sexual morality. You've already kicked us out of there, and, baby, you ain't seen nothing yet.

Edit: I feel like I may not have clarified the point behind my subject line. Same-sex marriage is a threat to society. Why? Because society is built on patriarchal, homophobic, sexist standards, and allowing da gays to get married would inherently be throwing it in the face of all those things. Essentially, calling something a threat to society is the greatest compliment I can give.

Everything We Touch Turns to Discourse

So this piece lives on the walls of the apartment where I spent my last week in DC. It's a spontaneous stream-of-consciousness piece that I scrawled across the walls in what, so far, have been the happiest, most simple moments of my life.

I was a bit hesitant about taking it out of its original context because I was scared it would lose its meaning and its feeling, but lately I've been having a really difficult and terribly frustrating time conveying my college experience and my new-found identities and ideas to everyone around these parts, and I thought this might dip into the surface.

-----------------------------------

So am I a beatnik or am I a sellout? Am I guilty of fraudulence? Does my fuck-what-you-want-ain't-got-nothin'-forget-my-possessions non-materialism truly mean anything if I've got a $200,000 education keeping me here just not to care? Can I really be free of my possessions and obsessions if mom and dad are still backing up that iPod and that computer and when the year's over, I go back to my house in the New York suburbs to drive my car (MY car) around suburban streets to the sounds of my motor and the empty satisfaction of the American dream?

What am I?

I am my own god.
In the beginning there was God, and Zie loved us so much and so well that Zie gave us the greatest gift of all: to, in turn, create Hir as we wished. And so I have made God into myself, for that is all I will ever control. And I am my experience, and I am yours, and everyone I've ever known. I am love in and of itself. I am human relation because if I can know that someone's life has been changed because of me, then I do not regret because I have lived.

What if you died tomorrow?
Would you be sorry or scared because knew not how to live?
I think that I would not. I may not wake up tomorrow or never again write or create or have my soul leak dark blue on to a page. I may never fall in love again or know everything or meet a beautiful girl be a beautiful girl or see the children of my friends. But today I sat on the floor of our apartment (OUR apartment) slicing a stolen apple with a clear plastic knife and felt complete among the beers and the boxes and the feeling that we were living it like we wanted. My best friend knocking back his second beer at 2 pm, and I felt infinitely happy.

We are everything.

We ourselves are individual microcosms, universes, worlds within ourselves. Eyes reflecting starlight are stars in themselves, bright thought glazed, leading our ways and revealing ancient secrets through mere glances. Passion is a tempest, violent in its beauty, tumultuous and turning, leaving ships in its wake, its sailors not destroyed, rather, changed.

We are the colliding of bodies.
We are the collapsing of bodies.

We are pressed hips and chapped lips and trembling fingers, shedding their regrets and hesitations and releasing all that words do not, cannot, say.

We are verbal intercourse producing birth, creation.

Revolution?

Revolution.
Don’t you go thinking that what we’re doing here isn’t revolution, because revolution is born every single day. It happens every time you change someone’s mind. It’s deconstruction. Every time someone questions who they are or what makes them that why or why they’re unhappy, that’s revolution. If even just one kid stops getting so goddamn down on themselves because they’re not “just like everyone else” because they realize that “just like everyone else” is a farce created by a system designed to tell us that we’re wrong, then that's revolution.

Why be "just like everyone else"if all that means is assimilating into this world full of –isms? Sexism, classism, racism, heterosexism. Why should we all strive to be white, rich, and upper class? Why is that what “equality” means, and why do we tolerate “tolerance?”

What if wealth became experience, not status? Because if that was the case, wouldn’t we already be prosperous in human connection?

We could all be wealthy in each other.

Have a Great Summer

There's no best part about quite literally not living anywhere, because every single part is the best part. I mean this totally and completely. I carry my life on my back, I have absolutely no responsibilities, I fall into the stories of the people around me, drink beer, and live my life so well that I cannot even comprehend it. My every day is enhanced by the excitement and mystery of where I'll fall asleep that night and what I'll do when I wake up the next morning because for once, I am free of obligations and may really and truly do anything.

I'm calling it urban backpacking.

(Partially because the only reason I can afford to do this is because of my privilege and my parents' permission, but whatever. It's the end, not the means).

The worst part is that, being the last one to leave of those who are leaving, I have to watch everyone go. I have cleverly evaded this by occupying myself just enough so that I've managed to not say goodbye to the majority of people who have meant the most to me this past year. And I would almost feel guilty about this, but I don't. Goodbyes don't mean much to me at all. I mean, they do, but not nearly as much as my time previously spent with a person that made an emotional goodbye expected or worth it at all. I don't say goodbye because 1) they're rarely permanent, and 2) I don't want the last time I see a person for quite a while to end up being some awkward, fumbling, sad attempt at a summary of what our friendship has meant, and 3) you already know that I want you to have a great summer. That's basically it. I love people too much for goodbyes, and my verbal skills often fail me, leaving me with a lot of regrets and "I wish I had said's," and that's not anything that anyone needs to bother with.

The last time I saw you, I probably just left it at "later."
Because that's really all it is, you know?

Things I UnLearned in College

This was going to originally be a finals week rant about how frustrated and exhausted and pressed for time I was. But somewhere along the line I changed my mind. It may have been at midnight on the seemingly inaccessible patio on which, only six floors up, I could view the entire school, silent, consumed by their books, while I exhaled and watched cigarette smoke float through the still, humid air over the top of my Red Bull (the two have been a strangely familiar but not unwelcome combination from high school) as I prepared for one more caffeine-soaked evening devoted to conquering the evils of microeconomics. It also may have been six-and-a-half hours later, when, dazed but bright-eyed, I emerged onto the quad to find the air as still as ever and witness a few individuals milling about under the newly grey sky.

Or maybe it was just that substance-induced sleep in the amphitheater the other night. Who knows.
The point is that I realized that all this stress and pressure and unhappy-making nonsense was just that: nonsense that a series of events and places and people socialized me to believe were necessary to a generic, synthesized form of happiness and normalcy. And that, as much as I've learned in my first year of college, the things that I've unlearned are just as, if not more, important in deconstructing everything that I had assumed I wanted.

So here we go.

They told me I had to be a business major because that's how you make money, and money buys you success, and this success makes you happy. Money makes you happy because you're always entitled to new things, such as a new wardrobe each season bought from the nearest mall with the money you've been earning at that dead-end minimum-wage suburban-kid job. But you know you're happy because why else would you keep trying to earn money to buy things? You still want it, really, you do.

To be a woman, they said, your hair must fall at least to your shoulders, and you must use it to lure men. This and your feminine wiles. Failing at either of these disqualifies you as a real woman, and you'll never be beautiful. For that you must be ashamed and scared and spend your time shielding yourself behind another person.

And yes, you do need another person to make you complete. You can't do this by yourself because if you're not in love, then you're not happy, and if marriage and children aren't in your future, then you're not normal (did you ever notice that everyone you talk to is mysteriously and definitely married when they talk about their futures? What makes that a given?). If you blew it the first time you loved, then you'll never find it again, and you probably didn't deserve it in the first place, so you have to go and ruin everything you touch because it'll never be the same anyway.

Pants are necessary around others.
So are shoes.
And you can't get there if a pair of wheels won't take you.

Carrying all this shit around, it's no wonder everyone is so damn unhappy.
The problem is where to go from here.

I think I'm going to spend the summer (when not flipping burgers and fending off angry pool moms) alone on buses, wandering through cities, bumming around friends' places, losing myself (though not really getting lost, because that's terrifying) in the woods, reading, reading, reading, hearing other people's stories and making my own.

Company is always welcome.

I Will

go to class this week.

I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.
I will go to class this week.

It is entirely possible that I've reached my breaking point.
Last week was lost in a cloud of smoke, and I subsequently attended half the amount of classes that I missed. Big college fail. I had a great week and don't necessarily regret it, but, really, I need to start going to class.

Actual post later today. Just thought if I put this out there, it might really happen.

PS - Download "Hysteric" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

PPS- A lesson in vocab...
transportered (tr v.) - to be transported from Porter house. Usually superior to an on-campus transport because 1. there is no ambulance, 2. "transporter" is more difficult for drunk students to chant than "transport," 3. you managed to make it off-campus before actually getting that drunk

highde-and-go-seek (n) - 1. as a game, very clearly the worst idea ever
2. as an accidental game, getting lost and refusing to tell anyone where you are and instead insisting that they search campus to come find you

A Lesson in Vocab

exhighted (adj) - 1. The state of being so high on uppers that one wishes only to stay up late into the night seeking out people to converse with about subjects such as the gender binary, social constructions, anti-civilization, and nerve synapses. This may also result in punching bitches in the face, yelling at everyone in a club, and sitting in a dark room on a computer while a 4am transport occurs six floors below.

2. The state of being so high on marijuana that one actually finds the phrase "exhighted" to be hilarious.

highbernation (n) - the result of highness to the point that one is unable to wake up the next morning, usually resulting in the blowing off of an opportunity or responsibility such as class, internships, or work

enlhightenment (n) - a seemingly profound conclusion that one reaches while high, usually includes solutions to problems such as world hunger, war, poverty, and what to buy from the Eagle's Nest (everything). To be considered a true highvelation, it must evoke an immediate "what the fuck" response in the morning.

Anything worth anything only happens at night.

This Is What a Music Post Looks Like

The weather in DC is atrocious.

It's one of those lack-of-weather days where you almost can't feel the temperature difference between outside and inside, and the only thing that characterizes the day is the complete lack of color when the clouds turn everything to grey. The sky has opened up, but not in the sort of way that causes students to scurry frantically between buildings, books servings as impromptu umbrellas in a torrential rainstorm. It's the sort of mist that you can't really define or avoid, and so you just walk through it, squinting as drops of water rest on your eyelashes and an uncomfortable clamminess works its way through your bones.

Anyway.
As a result of this, it's also one of those existential crisis days for me.
As a sort of follow-up to my last entry, I'm in a bit of an ironically apathetic panic. My education seems pointless, I'm unmotivated, and I just feel like I'm wasting money and time in these classes.

Enter playlist therapy.
In accordance with my lack of motivation, I'm too lazy to make a real playlist. Plus I'm in the mood for epicness, so I'm making it my mission to listen to about seven full albums front-to-back throughout the course of my day/night. It's no Apex, but everything's got it's place, yeah?

So here we go, in no particular order (except the one in which I am listening to them, which is random)...

1. In Our Bedroom After the War - Stars
Epic epic epic epic epic and made entirely for rainy days.
Potentially the most cohesive album I've heard. It manages to be uniform in sound without being dull and repetitive. The album lulls and rocks and carries the listener from the wonderfully synth-heavy instrumental opening track "The Beginning After the End" to the final seven-minute title track. Slow building tracks and perfect harmonies between the etheral Amy Millan and Torquill Campbell lull the listener into a seamless dream-like state in the very best of ways.

Download: The Night Starts Here, Take Me to the Riot, Bitches in Tokyo

2. Set Yourself on Fire - Stars
The predecessor to In Our Bedroom, Set Yourself on Fire functioned today as the more lively, though slightly less mature, answer to my gloomy mood. "What I'm Trying to Say" is potentially my favorite song of all time. As Campbell once announced before performing the piece live, "This song is about fucking and death." Its multilayered beat and carpe diem fuck-'em-all lyrics combine to form a three-and-a-half minute no-fail tour de force. The rest of the album follows in the same vein.
Download: What I'm Trying to Say, Reunion, The First Five Times

3. Pinkerton - Weezer
My first favorite album ever. Originally crafted to be a concept album (this admittedly would have been a fail), Pinkerton serves as the pinnacle of Weezer's discography. It is the epitome of eccentric frontman Rivers Cuomo's style (though he doesn't know his own talent): a collection of confessions, apologies, and love songs expressed through charmingly simple and almost uncomfortably honest lyrics. It also works on shuffle. He screams, he whispers, he makes awkward references to lesbians and half-Japanese girls. It's perfect. Also home to my second favorite song of all time, "El Scorcho."

Download: Falling for You, El Scorcho, Across the Sea (epic!)

4. The Con - Tegan and Sara
I know, you were all waiting for this one. My favorite, and perhaps the ultimate (yes, ultimate), album to listen to front-to-back. With 14 songs coming in just over 30 minutes, The Con is potentially Tegan and Sara's best work to date, all at once featuring their classic harmonies while managing to reach toward the experimental. With a higher production budget, and therefore quality, than any of the other albums, the Quins take on a variety of musical styles, from the standard poppy "Back In Your Head" to the electronic, looping, "Are You Ten Years Ago" to the haunting, quirky "Like O, Like H." Despite the variation among songs, always consistent is the raw and honest emotion that carries the album through a full story arc. I have listened to this album a countless number of times, and I can guarantee that there is always always always something new and wonderful to discover.
Download: THE WHOLE THING
But no, really: The Con, Nineteen, Dark Come Soon, Back in Your Head (demo, if you can)

Okay, I'm actually going to give it a rest for now because (1) I've only gotten this far in listening today anyway, (2) I have a TON of work that I've been putting off through this, and (3) this shit is getting real epic.

To be continued.