friends

Everyone’s a LITTLE BIT RACIST!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to manager!

I used to think _______________.

But now I know _______________.

While Adam and I were in NYC we had a quick dinner with a friend of ours.  She’s a performer and writer who Adam met years ago.  I met her at Adam’s birthday dinner, three weeks after we started dating.  

She’s funny.  And very insightful.  

While we dined, we talked about a lot of things and my writing came up.  I mentioned that Adam had been giving me prompts since sometimes I have a hard time coming up with something to say.  And that was the end of it.  

A few days after we got home, she texted Adam and asked if she could give me a prompt.  I immediately said yes.  And the prompt was.

I used to think ____________.  

But now I know ____________.

I thought it was brilliant.  And I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.  With my work schedule there has not been a lot of time to write but here you go.    

I used to think _____________.

Now I know_______________.

Several thoughts came to mind when he read me the text. 

I used to think I was fat. 

Now I know I am fat.  

I used to think I wasn’t racist.

Now I know I was racist. 

I used to think I was right.

Now I know I was NOT right. 

It’s a great question though.  

I’m going to go back to the first two. 

I used to think I was fat. 

I weighed 225 pounds.  I had a belly.  I was in NYC walking the streets in Chelsea where every man had a 32-inch waist and .000002% body fat.  And they were considered fat.  I remember being embarrassed that I had a 36-inch waist.  I was too focused on my own body to realize that although I had a few extra pounds, they were no happier than I was.  

I wish now that I had embraced my stocky body.  I would have been so much less self-conscience.  It didn’t help that I had several people in my life that were focusing their attention on getting me to lose weight.  It never seemed that who I was at the time was good enough.  In fact, a boyfriend broke up with me, because he said I had an active addiction to food.  I realize now that what I had was an active addiction to assholes.  

What I wouldn’t give to be as fat as I was back then.  I AM fat now.  And at 61, it’s okay.  I have a boyfriend who tells me I’m handsome.  I have friends who don’t focus on my weight.  I have a healthy view of myself. Do I wish I was skinny?  Fuck yes.  Do I like eating ice cream?  Fuck yes. 

This is not to say I’ll never lose weight again, but I also know that I’m happier when I’m not focused on the negative, and my weight leads me toward the negative.  

I just bought new pants that are in a size larger than the last pair of pants I bought.  And you know what, I don’t mind.  They fit.  I look good.  And the reality is, I no longer care what most people think.  I’ve kind of resigned myself that the only time I’ve really ever lost weight was with the “divorce diet,” so perhaps Adam needs to break up with me so I can be skinny again.  

And the other thought I had. 

I used to think I was NOT racist.  

 But now I know I was racist.  

So true.  

I challenge anyone white person who grew up in the south to prove to me that they grew up without bias.  It’s bred into you.  Like bourbon and sausage gravy.  Seriously. 

It’s like the song from Avenue Q.  Everyone’s a little bit racist.  And it’s true.  Maybe you didn’t not hire someone because they were black, but did you ever tell a black joke?  A Pollack joke?  

I used to say that I wouldn’t watch BET until there was a WET, not realizing that every tv channel was white entertainment television.  I have locked my car doors in a “different” part of town.  I have worried about going to a wrong neighborhood when someone wanted to take me home with them.  

This is all bias.  And we all have it.  What’s funny, is that the people who protest the most that they don’t have bias, are people who have the worst bias.  “I don’t see color.”  If you don’t see color then you are biased.  Wanting to end DEI is biased.  Ending voting rights laws is biased.  As a gay man posting straight looking white men only on a dating site, as a preference is a bias.  

I still have these biases.  The difference is, that when they creep in, I stop them in their tracks.  I say to myself, you are being southern and you need to stop it.  And I do. 

What I have realized though, is that it’s not just southerners.  

It was just announced that Jasmine Amy Rogers will be playing Maria in The Sound of Music this fall at Lincoln Center and OH MY have the racist come out of the closet.  She is a person of color and you’d think someone had just slapped their grandma.  How can a person of color play a nanny in Austria in a play.  Here’s how.  It doesn’t fucking matter!  Have you heard her sing?  She’s brilliant.  She’s funny. She’s charming.  And she’ll kill the role.  

And before someone asks, NO, it is not the same as a white actress playing the lead in Dreamgirls.  Race is not a part of the show.  There are lots of plays that require the actors to be white. This is not one of them.

So please, check your bias. And trust me, even if you are from liberal California you have it. And if you are from anywhere south of Ohio, you were fucking born that way.  Unlike being gay though, you can change.  And it starts with acknowledging it.  Then owning it.  Then changing it. 

As NIKE says, just do it. 

In the meantime, I think I have a pint of ice cream in my freezer with my name on it.   

Climb every mountain!!!

/ fightmasterwrites / Leave a comment

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My friend Michelle and I have been on many adventures.  

The most exciting, difficult, challenging, rewarding, and overwhelming was hiking the Grand Canyon.  

In the spring of 2002, I flew to San Francisco to join Michelle in driving back home to Chicago.  She’d been there working there for a year, and was going home.  

We left San Francisco, drove down the Pacific Coast Highway, to LA, where I visited my friend Donna Jo. The most memorable part of that visit was how fucking hot it was, “oppressive” to quote Donna Jo.

From there we drove to Santa Fe, to visit a friend, then to Vegas, and from Vegas we drove to the Grand Canyon.  

We checked in to a hotel, knowing that we had to be up early the next morning for our hike.  

We got to bed early, set our alarm and were asleep by 10:00.  

Rise and shine.  We were up and parking at the Canyon at 5:00. 

When we arrived at the top, there was a sign that said, DO NOT TRY AND HIKE THIS IN ONE DAY.  IT CAN’T BE DONE.  

I asked Michelle about this, and she assured me that her friends had done it.  

We walk closer to the beginning of the trail down, passing at least 4 million other versions of this sign. 

I’m assured that it doesn’t mean us.  

And down the trail we start. 

Fun fact.  

We are amateurs.  In the truest sense of the word.  

Our provisions include a back pack, a camera, four bottles of water, and I think 4 power bars.  That’s it.  Why the fuck would we need more water, or food than that.  

Down we go.  Chatting all the way.  We pass a couple of water stations, but we have all we need so we keep going.  

The trail is beautiful and we are bonding as we frolic down the steep incline.  

It was not a short trek down, but after a few hours, the trail flattens out and we are at the bottom of the canyon.  The river is in front of us.  There is a camp ground.  There are people that have passed us, setting up camp.  

We take in the site, I snap a few photos, that are in a box in my bedroom.  

And we start back up. 

Within 30 minutes Michelle realizes that it’s going to be a bit harder than we thought.  We are taking it slow.  And are still having fun.  

However, it’s hot.  And we are drinking our water.  

Soon there is only one bottle left.  I suggest that we ration it.  

And we climb.  And we climb.  And we go slower.  And slower.  And slower.

And soon we are out of water.  

And we climb.  And we climb.  And we climb.  

It doesn’t help that we don’t have a map, so although we are passing landmarks, we have no idea who much further it actually is to the top.  

By this time, I’m getting tired.  Michelle has become exhausted.  

And still we hike.  

Our power bars are long gone.  I’m thirsty, but fun fact, I don’t get hangry.  I can go all day without eating and it really doesn’t bother me.

Michelle on the other hand, needs a sandwich every so often.  

At one point she shouts at me, go on without me.  I’m giving up.    

I don’t.  I walk ahead, then back.    Walk ahead, then back.  

And around 7:30, I walk ahead and discover that we are at the top.

I run back down to her, and say you are almost there.  

And around 8:00 we both crest the hill.  

We sit on a bench.  Exhausted.  

We then notice that there is a visitor’s area with a coke machine.  We are armed with two sodas in no time.  We are sipping our sodas when the bus to take us back to our car comes.  And the driver tells us we aren’t allowed to have beverages.  I assure her that we are breaking the rules today, and she wasn’t happy, but she didn’t argue. 

She dropped us at our car and we drove back to our hotel.  We showered, and then went to dinner, where we laughed and laughed at how crazy it was that we’d just done what we’d done.

And we’ll always have Paris. 

And we’ll always have the Grand Canyon.