I knew several things. That I would finally meet my sister. And finally, confirmation of what I had known for two decades: my sister was also sexually abused by our father. Knowing something to be true and finally staring truth in the face is overwhelming. I would never feel the same as I did before that Wednesday morning.
There is no arguing that the Roman Catholic Pope is the very portrait of homophobia, and although some would argue that he has a legal right to spread his message of hatred, the question must be asked in Alberta why our government is so willing to fund a school board that supports this hatred, this outright advocation for gay genocide.
To those who expected Foster to announce publicly that she is gay, the speech was likely a disappointment. Certainly celebrity news opportunists like Harvey Levin and Perez Hilton were deleting hastily written posts for their websites when Foster said little more than "I'm single" as her big announcement. The subsequent outcry from some in the LGBTQ was perhaps far more surprising than Foster's refusal to publicly come out.
After a four-hour trek through downtown to find coloured fishnet stockings, a garter, and plastic water pistols in an outfit that reveals more skin than I do at the doctor's office, we are on our way to the Late Night Double Feature Picture Show. I begin to get very nervous when remember that I am not wearing pants.
At 15, being called Fagboy on the football field happened. Ironically enough, it was a straight kid with immaculate gaydar who gave me that name in high school. I was thankful that the moniker never lasted more than that year, but those words 'Fagboy' have stuck with me ever since. It would take a few handfuls of girlfriends, over two decades of denial and seven full years of hiding on the other side of the planet -- in China -- before I learned to let go of my fear, my shame and the idea that being gay was wrong.
One of my childhoods was happy. The B&W movies projected on our small TV screen, more often than not, contradicted the drama I was living in my own home movie reels. But there were exceptions. In fact, the images of our television's B&W movies were very real to me. Sidney Poitier was one of those images, and thankfully, he made repeat appearances.
Because today is National Coming Out Day, I was reminded of my own journey. Almost two decades ago, I came out of that supposed "closet" publicly and purposefully for when I finally figured out I was gay, I wanted to shout it to the world. I eventually found the label "gay" something to be proud of. The gay label is just one small part of the big picture. But take it away and I wouldn't be me.
What relationship comes with a lifetime guarantee? So back in 1990, I was a man on a mission. I answered an ad from someone HIV-positive in Toronto looking for a serious relationship. Even today, people still have a reaction when you tell them you've dated an HIV-positive person. My friends were supportive of this relationship but my mother for years worried about my contacting HIV. Robert passed away a decade ago. Our relationship opened up a space in my heart that wasn't there before. Risking that initial date with fear taught me existence without love is as a lifeless as a corpse.
You'd have thought Maclean's would have blazoned the death of Section 13 all over its front cover. With a massive headline along the lines of "SCREW YOU, CENSORS!!!" Or "WE WON!!!" Instead, the cover featured a generic picture of an innocuous youngish woman and an innocuous youngish man grinning maniacally and the silly headline: "The majority of us are singles. So why do we still live in a couples world?"
Obama doesn't acknowledge that he's flip-flopped on the "marriage" aspect; he says he's "evolved" to that belief, encouraged by his wife and daughters. By supporting gay marriages, Obama may have lost the Evangelical vote -- assuming he ever had it, which is doubtful. But in any case, same-sex marriages are more a case of national curiosity than national importance.