Friday, February 26, 2010

Do Tell

This week, several pieces of news hit me in succession.

On Monday, the NY Times announced that a study was to come out the next day saying that gay soldiers in foreign militaries do not cause disruptions, so long as the transition to full integration was swift. The study pertained to militaries in Britain, Canada, Australia, South Africa and other countries.

I was interested in this, so I followed the link to the think tank that would be issuing this report and signed up to receive notification when it came out.

I got the notice on Tuesday. Here's the report.

The think tank is the Palm Center at the University of California, Santa Barbara. Since 1998, the Center has been a leader in commissioning and disseminating research in the areas of gender, sexuality, and the military.

Here are the study's major points:
  • 25 nations now allow gays and lesbians to serve openly in the military.
  • Although controversy preceded implementation of the policy changes, and polls indicated massive resignations would occur, in Britain and Canada, only 3 people resigned when the policies were implemented.
  • "No consulted expert anywhere in the world concluded that lifting the ban on openly gay service caused an overall decline in the military."
  • "Evidence suggests that lifting bans on openly gay service contributed to improving the command climate in foreign militaries, including increased focus on behavior and mission rather than identity and difference, greater respect for rules and policies that reflect the modern military, a decrease in harassment,retention of critical personnel, and enhanced respect for privacy."
  • These successes persist over time, and no delayed problems emerge.
  • "A quick, simple implementation process is instrumental in ensuring success. Swift, decisive implementation signals the support of top leadership and confidence that the process will go smoothly, while a 'phased-in' implementation can create anxiety, confusion, and obstructionism."
  • "Two main factors contributed to the success of transitions to openly gay service: clear signals of leadership support and a focus on a uniform code of behavior without regard to sexual orientation. Also key are simple training guidelines that communicate the support of leadership, that explain the uniform standards for conduct, and that avoid 'sensitivity' training, which can backfire by causing resentment in the ranks."
  • "None of the countries studied installed separate facilities for gay troops, nor did they retain rules treating gays differently from heterosexuals."
  • "Lifting bans on openly gay service in foreign countries did not result in a mass 'coming out.'"
  • "There were no instances of increased harassment of or by gay people as a result of lifting bans in any of the countries studied."
  • "Informal discrimination in treatment and promotions have not been wiped out, but evidence suggests that formal policies of equal treatment for people equally situated helps reduce discrimination and resentment, and helps keep the focus on behavior necessary to complete the mission rather than on group traits that can distract from the mission."
  • "The U.S. military has a long tradition of considering the experiences of other militaries to be relevant to its own lessons learned."
On Wednesday, the NY Times covered the testimony before Congress of two generals who expressed "serious concerns" about repealing the Don't Ask Don't Tell law "on a force that’s fully engaged in two wars and has been at war for eight-and-a-half years," in the words of General George W. Casey Jr., the Army chief of Staff. His colleague, General Norton A. Schwartz, the Air Force chief of staff "cautioned that there was little research [my emphasis] on how the policy change might affect Air Force personnel deployed for combat, surveillance and support missions around the world."

The Times then reported, "Both expressed reservations about moving too swiftly to change the policy [my emphasis], and both endorsed the decision by Defense Secretary Robert M. Gates to deliberately review the issue before acting."

Then, later on Wednesday, I got another notification from the Palm Center, this one a grim reminder of the sad toll these wars are taking. A gay soldier had died in Afghanistan. Tragically, soldiers are dying every day in Afghanistan and Iraq, so why should I call out this soldier's death? Consider this:

Because of Don't Ask Don't Tell, this soldier's partner was not informed of his death (except incidentally). Needless to say, his partner was also not able to make decisions about the disposition of his remains. Because of Don't Ask Don't Tell, an injured soldier's partner would not be able to make emergency decisions on his or her behalf.

And of course, because of a whole host of other discriminatory rules, regulations and laws, the deceased soldier's partner will not be eligible for survivor's benefits, just like the partner had not been eligible for any benefits during the soldier's lifetime.

This situation is appalling beyond words. The idea that these men and women are putting their lives on the line for a country that does not respect them enough to treat them as full citizens with equal rights under the law just makes me sick.

Congress must make a start toward changing this situation by repealing the Don't Ask Don't Tell law and demanding a swift transition, as research in 25 nations shows is the best way. Please follow this link and contact your senators. Demand action now while lives are on the line.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Stirred down

I was making dinner a week or two ago for our friends Jan and Jay, when I reached for a certain spoon in the drawer. I choose this particular spoon whenever I am cooking something special or cooking for people for whom I feel a special love.

This spoon once belonged to my grandmother, who used it so much she wore it down. My mother called it "stirred down." I never knew my grandmother, because she died when my mother was a young girl. When I stir things with this spoon, I think about my mother stirring with this spoon, and I know she was thinking about her mother stirring with this spoon. In this way, I can bring them both to me as I cook.

My mother told me stories about spending time around her mother cooking, including one about her singing (repeatedly) to her mother the 1925 hit  "Tie Me to Your Apron Strings Again." Her mother lost patience, eventually, and if you follow the link you may get some hint as to why that might be. She hugged my mother (a little girl) and proceeded to tie my mother to her with her apron strings.

I have my own memories of watching my mother cook, none as dramatic, nor as musical. However, I can call up how to roll out a pie crust, and beat and stir batters, simply by envisioning my mother's hands going through those motions. When I was a new cook, this was especially helpful.

Now, when I hold this one spoon, which has been in my mother's and grandmother's hands, they are with me, even as I am preparing a meal I will eat with living loved ones tonight. It fills me up, and I fill the food with this feeling. Maybe I should rename this post "Stirred up."

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Valentines Day, 2004

I woke up on Saturday, February 14, 2004, feeling down on myself. Feeling like I'd missed out on one of the most important political and personal statements available to me to that point in my life. On Thursday of that week, Gavin Newsom, the Mayor of San Francisco (just across the Bay from us in Berkeley) had started marrying people like me and Iris. It was a shock and a stunner. It sent earthquakes of joy all across the LGBT community, and I had been too stuck in my daily grind to take a day off of work and go get hitched.

And, by Saturday, I was pretty sure the whole thing had been called off. Every hour on Friday, there had been threats of various legal actions, and besides, we all knew these pieces of paper weren't really going to hold up in court.

So, that was the scene as I started my regular Saturday morning on 2/14/04. It was my turn to do the grocery shopping and I had the radio on in the car. To my great surprise, KQED was reporting that, not only was San Francisco still performing weddings, but City Hall itself remained open for business on Saturday, using an all volunteer staff to handle the expected crowd.

I tore home and woke Iris up with a marriage proposal. Lucky for me, she said "yes!" We called our son Nathan, who had spent the night at a friend's, to see if he wanted to go with us. He was a high school senior then, and we hoped he would join us. We did warn him that there would probably be a lot of waiting involved (which turned out to be quite accurate). Happily, he was excited to go.

So we hopped on BART and headed into the City. When we arrived at San Francisco City Hall, at about 10:30 am, it was apparent that the line for the same-sex weddings was being handled in a non-standard way, through an entrance to the rear of the building, and the line of couples already snaked all the way from the back, along one entire side, and then was beginning to turn along the front of the building as well. Heterosexual couples who had booked a Valentines Day wedding date were being allowed into the building from the front entrance.

So, for the next six hours or so, we stood in line, along with many hundreds of other couples, and their friends and family members. The couple in front of us had been together 8 years. The couple behind us had been together 18 years. At the time, we had been together 13 years. We exchanges stories, took pictures of one another, traded back rubs, getting food, and so forth. It was a very festive event, and all of us were acutely aware that we were making history.

At long last, we made the turn into the building, and then truly amazing things began to happen. You became aware of the fact that every single civil servant you encountered was volunteering his or her time that day (remember, it was a Saturday!). From the security guard at the door to the clerk at the desk, these people would look up at you and say, "I am so glad to be here today doing this for you!" Honestly, you could not keep your eyes dry from one bureaucratic step to the next.

After one of these form completion tasks, we went into an anti-room for a moment, and here was a young woman handing out cupcakes. She said that she had been there with friends the day before and felt that there really ought to be cake for the brides and grooms, so she just decided to make it happen!

At last we had our license and we stood in a waiting area just off the balcony over the Rotunda. This is a dark, but dramatic space. We were standing there with at least 10 other couples, all waiting for a Deputy Commissioner to come and get us. We could also see that there were weddings going on all over the balcony just next to us. It was a wedding madhouse. In one regard, I was operating under a sensory overload at this point, but in another, I think I've never felt more alive, more inside of a moment.

I looked up, and there standing in front of me was an old friend I had known 15 years before. She was there to be a witness for another couple who had not shown up. She knew both Iris and I, and we did not have a witness, because Nathan was not yet 18. So, she became our witness. With Nathan standing by, we got married right then.


This photo shows Iris on the left, me on the right, and Nathan above us. We have just come out of City Hall, so we are newly married. The people on the far right are still in the line waiting to get in.

I have in my hand our copy of the license, which, it turned out, never got certified by the State of California. In the end, our 2004 marriage was never valid. In November 2004, We got a letter from the County Clerk offering us our money back, or we had the option of donating it to a fund to fight for marriage equality. We donated the money. Until 2008, when for another brief window of time, it was an option for same-sex couples to wed in California, we hung our 2004 marriage license on the wall in our house.

Now we have the 2008 license hanging on the wall. It has a little more strength behind it, in that it actually got certified by the State, and so we are legally married in California. But now we are a token couple, one of 18,000 (up from the 3200 in 2004!). Right now the rule is that nobody else coming after us can have what we have. They'll have to be satisfied with separate but unequal.


Here's what's true:
Until it is possible for my marriage to Iris to be recognized by the United States government and across all 50 states, my marriage to Iris is not equal to any one of those heterosexual couples' who walked in the front door of City Hall on 2/14/04, even though I have married Iris over and over again.

I am glad we married on 2/14/04, and I thank Gavin Newsom for his courageous step. But this is a far way from being a done deal.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

A Review: Reclaim Your Dreams

Jonathan Mead is the author of one of the best critiques of the modern love affair with productivity I've read recently. I say "best," because after he explains what he thinks is wrong with our productivity obsession, he includes his own specific and working solution. This is his great strength, and where and when he engages in this kind of approach in his eBook, Reclaim Your Dreams, he is refreshingly successful in breaking through the ordinary world of self-help literature.

In my view, this is mostly evident in Part 2 of the book. In Part 1, you have to confront Mead’s repeated assertion that "the point of life is to enjoy life." If you agree with that, you may be fine with the rest of his argument. However, you may think the point of life is to serve one another justly, or, perhaps, to serve God, or something else entirely. Too, if you did not have a relatively privileged, trouble-free childhood, you might have a hard time identifying with Mead’s too easy explanation of the development of adult self-doubts and judgments from run-of-the-mill childhood experiences.

Fortunately, you can benefit from the useful approaches introduced in Part 2 without assenting to the belief structures of Part 1. And here, as I mentioned, is where Jonathan Mead is really at his best. He is a man who has put his ideas into action in his own life, and he is willing to report both the process and the results, which is unusual and informative. For those of us interested in the topics of career transitions, dreaming of the future, or even retirement planning, I think the book gets very useful when Mead gives us the 3 Keys to Making Your Dreams Happen. Here, he essentially recaps his key ideas in  practical form, by spelling out what you have to do to try out a new idea. He starts by confronting fears and making suggestions about how to "overcome uncertainty." He also walks through what it might be like to talk about any transition with those closest to you.

Next, he presses on the idea of making time for the new idea and explores all that might mean. Finally, Mead takes on the topic of money. Our financial planner made many of these same arguments to Iris and me when she was trying to get us onto a smarter path of retirement savings. Mead takes it a little farther, because he also includes the post-transition steps, that is, how to start that new business by volunteering or "hang(ing) up your shingle." Interestingly, by reminding you to "focus on providing value to others," the 7th Chapter actually ties directly to the productivity essay I mentioned earlier.

Let me also take a minute to touch on the exercises that are available along with the book, for an additional fee. Most of these are fairly intuitive and follow along with the texts for each chapter. They would be useful for someone who really likes to have a structure within which to work. There is one extraordinary diagram included, and it pertains to discerning how to create an income from what you love. Mead credits Bud Caddell's whatconsumesme.com

One last thought: in his introduction, “Taking the Plunge,” Mead notes that “We have to make things up as we along, and we have to stop caring about not knowing where our thirst for freedom might lead us.” That struck me as a good rallying cry for any liberation movement, and I wondered if Mead’s readers notice they have common cause with every person who wants to be free to be fully him- or herself.

Again, the eBook is: Reclaim Your Dreams 

Saturday, February 6, 2010

The Tale of Two Friendships

I saw my friend Denah this week. By itself, that sentence, "I saw my friend Denah this week," is not so remarkable. The thing is, my friendship with Denah exists entirely in the context of an annual gathering on the occasion of Groundhog Day, February 2nd.

I met Denah at a Groundhog Day party, one that my dear (best ever) neighbor Barbara holds every year on February 2, about 6 or 7 years ago. From the first, Denah and I hit it off. We dove into the deep end of conversation that first night, discussing spiritual matters of great importance to us both. I left the party with a sense that this woman had been a real gift to me. Since then, as she has reappeared on each February 2nd of my life, I have had the opportunity to report in on my adventures, as she has had with me. It continues to be a friendship of great sweetness and remarkable strength. It is quite extraordinary.

Seeing Denah this year reminded me of my good friend Lynne, who died in 2002. The two of them are unlike each other, but the friendships themselves have a similarity. Here's how I met Lynne: for many years, 10 to be exact, I took a particular BART train in the morning to my job in San Francisco. I am a creature of habit, and I had a particular place where I liked to stand to catch the train, because it positioned me well for the exit I wanted take once I reached my destination. It turned out there was another woman who was like me in this way, and one day one of us broke the unspoken 'no talking in line' rule. I can't remember if it was me or Lynne, but she or I asked the other what book she was reading. That did it! After that, we never stopped talking. And, as it turned out, having 30 to 35 minutes together, 5 days a week was actually quite a lot of time with which to build a friendship. From then on, we sat together from North Berkeley to Embarcadero (where I exited) and talked, or read, for several years, until Lynne got sick with her fatal illness.

Lynne was a highly skilled nurse practitioner, and she knew full well what her prospects were when she broke the news to me. By then, she and I had gotten together only once outside of the context of our BART-ride friendship, but I was moved to ask if I could be a part of her support system, and she agreed. I joined a circle of Lynne's closest friends, and it was surprising to me that they had all heard of "Joan from BART."

What I want to say about both of these friendships, aside from how deeply grateful I am for them, is that they are in large measure the product of a characteristic I've shared with these two women, that of constancy. This is a quality that doesn't get much play in our culture anymore, as fast-paced as it is.

Now, I am not saying I am a paragon of this virtue. I too can abandon myself in the face of stress or depression. I am saying that it is good to be reminded of what I can gain by remaining faithful, being constant to myself and those who matter to me. Thank you Denah and Lynne.
 

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