tea berry-blue

Okay, here is how we are going to do this thing:

This is Catman:

This is George Cattington:

This is a, um, carrcat? A what! I don’t know, that’s a stupid name!

Do you want a cat that is also a thing? Of course you do! Here is what to do!

CALL or EMAIL a New York State Senator who is undecided or unconfirmed on the Marriage Equality bill. here is Maureen Johnson’s post with all the details, including how to approach a phone call. Send me your message confirmation if you email, or let me know the result of your call, and tell me what thing or person (or place, I guess) you would like a cat to be. I will draw for at least ten people, and then we’ll see how I am doing with keeping up. If you’ve already done this, that counts, too.

You know you want a cat that is a thing! Also you want everyone to be allowed to get married. Weddings and cats for everyone!

Mirrored from Antagonia.net.

For those of you who are unaware (perhaps you live in another state), the NYS Assembly passed a Marriage Equality bill for the FOURTH time. The Senate keeps voting it down. It's incredibly distressing and demoralizing. Anyway, this time, it looks like the vote will be very close, and potentially hinge on one Senator, Senator Mark Grisanti. Here's a link to his website.

If any of you can spare a moment to write to him today, I would sure appreciate it, and so would lots of other New Yorkers. Here's the letter I just sent him.

Dear Senator Grisanti,

I'm not one of your constituents, but my mom grew up in Buffalo, and I was hoping you would take the time to listen to a fellow Catholic and a fellow New Yorker on the important issue of marriage equality for GLBT New Yorkers.

When I was thirteen, I was working hard to finish my community service hours required by my parish to receive my Confirmation. I picked the name Victoria, after my grandmother's youngest aunt, who was still alive and a great inspiration to me.

It was also the first time I had a crush on a girl.

I remember, at that young and confusing age, laying awake at night praying for it to go away. My parents were loving and openminded people who would never have judged someone for being gay, but that didn't stop me from feeling the pervasive feeling that it was wrong, or that something was wrong with me. I remember praying to God that I didn't want to be a lesbian, because to my thirteen-year-old mind, it was freaky and terrible, and when you're thirteen, all you want is to be normal and like all the other kids. I didn't want there to be one more thing that was different about me.

But I couldn't help it. No matter how much I tried to squash the kinds of feelings I felt toward other girls, I kept having them. Of course, I liked boys, too, and I tried to concentrate on that, because at least that was normal. At least I could talk to other girls about it without them singling me out for ridicule or deciding that there was something strange or unnatural about me.

The secret I carried ruined my best high school friendship, because I was afraid to tell my friend that I was in love with her. Maybe she would have understood, but maybe it would have made things even worse-- I'll never know.

I'm an adult now, and much more comfortable with who I am. But one thing I am not comfortable with is the fact that if the person I choose to spend the rest of my life with is a woman, I won't be able to marry her. I've made peace with the fact that I may not be able to marry her in a church, but I believe fervently that God made me who I am, and makes each of us with the capacity to love that He wishes for us. I can't help but believe that that is not what God would want for me-- that I would have to make such a difficult choice just to spend my life with someone I love. And I hope I might appeal to you as a parent when I say that I have to consider the fact that my parents would miss out on seeing their only daughter get married. My father would miss out on dancing with me at my wedding. And I would not wish that on any father, or any parents, that a law would stand in the way of their opportunity to celebrate the joy of their child's marriage.

Thank you so much for your time. I sincerely hope you will consider this matter with an open heart and an eye to the future. I may not be able to vote for you, but I have friends in your district, and if you make this brave decision, I will absolutely do whatever I can to help support you.

Sincerely,

Tea Fougner.

Senator Grisanti's email address is grisanti@nysenate.gov

For those of you who are unaware (perhaps you live in another state), the NYS Assembly passed a Marriage Equality bill for the FOURTH time. The Senate keeps voting it down. It's incredibly distressing and demoralizing. Anyway, this time, it looks like the vote will be very close, and potentially hinge on one Senator, Senator Mark Grisanti. Here's a link to his website.

If any of you can spare a moment to write to him today, I would sure appreciate it, and so would lots of other New Yorkers. Here's the letter I just sent him.

Dear Senator Grisanti,

I'm not one of your constituents, but my mom grew up in Buffalo, and I was hoping you would take the time to listen to a fellow Catholic and a fellow New Yorker on the important issue of marriage equality for GLBT New Yorkers.

When I was thirteen, I was working hard to finish my community service hours required by my parish to receive my Confirmation. I picked the name Victoria, after my grandmother's youngest aunt, who was still alive and a great inspiration to me.

It was also the first time I had a crush on a girl.

I remember, at that young and confusing age, laying awake at night praying for it to go away. My parents were loving and openminded people who would never have judged someone for being gay, but that didn't stop me from feeling the pervasive feeling that it was wrong, or that something was wrong with me. I remember praying to God that I didn't want to be a lesbian, because to my thirteen-year-old mind, it was freaky and terrible, and when you're thirteen, all you want is to be normal and like all the other kids. I didn't want there to be one more thing that was different about me.

But I couldn't help it. No matter how much I tried to squash the kinds of feelings I felt toward other girls, I kept having them. Of course, I liked boys, too, and I tried to concentrate on that, because at least that was normal. At least I could talk to other girls about it without them singling me out for ridicule or deciding that there was something strange or unnatural about me.

The secret I carried ruined my best high school friendship, because I was afraid to tell my friend that I was in love with her. Maybe she would have understood, but maybe it would have made things even worse-- I'll never know.

I'm an adult now, and much more comfortable with who I am. But one thing I am not comfortable with is the fact that if the person I choose to spend the rest of my life with is a woman, I won't be able to marry her. I've made peace with the fact that I may not be able to marry her in a church, but I believe fervently that God made me who I am, and makes each of us with the capacity to love that He wishes for us. I can't help but believe that that is not what God would want for me-- that I would have to make such a difficult choice just to spend my life with someone I love. And I hope I might appeal to you as a parent when I say that I have to consider the fact that my parents would miss out on seeing their only daughter get married. My father would miss out on dancing with me at my wedding. And I would not wish that on any father, or any parents, that a law would stand in the way of their opportunity to celebrate the joy of their child's marriage.

Thank you so much for your time. I sincerely hope you will consider this matter with an open heart and an eye to the future. I may not be able to vote for you, but I have friends in your district, and if you make this brave decision, I will absolutely do whatever I can to help support you.

Sincerely,

Tea Fougner.

Senator Grisanti's email address is grisanti@nysenate.gov

On the walk home from work, I saw two boys who could not have been more than 12 holding hands in front of me. Then, one of them swept in and pecked the other one on the cheek. Instead of being all disgusted, which is what you would expect, the other boy grinned back and swatted at him, and this devolved into a bit of a punch-you-punch-me thing. Then they stopped punching each other, the one who had swatted first kissed the other boy on the cheek, and then they started holding hands again, and began conversing about AWESOME MONSTER TRUCKS.

It was one of the most uplifting things I have seen in my life. They were acting exactly the way straight kids that age act, where they are shy and very sweet about kissing, and with no pretension. They didn’t act the way people expect gay boys to act– they were in no way effeminate; they were very boyish little boys with high top sneakers and denim shorts and oversized tee shirts. But they were kissing and holding hands. In public. On a crowded city street. And that says something about how people’s perceptions are changing. That two very young boys are okay with not only telling each other that they like each other, but letting strangers know.

This is in sharp contrast to what is going on in a country where, according to their President, this would never happen because they don’t have homosexuals.

I have a few things I would like to say based on some misconceptions I have seen from other people. I have seen a few people point out that Moussavi may not be any better a man than Ahmadinejad. That is beside the point.

We, Americans and Europeans and anyone else reading this or watching the news or checking Twitter or anything else, we do not have a right to choose Iran’s leadership. We can have opinions about the candidates, but our opinions about the candidates have nothing to do with the issue at hand. The issue at hand is not even whether the election was rigged (although it seems pretty obvious it was.) The issue is that people have a right to complain and protest and question the system and not worry about being censored or silenced or, more importantly, beaten or killed. They have a right to say it was rigged and not fall victims to human rights atrocities. It does not matter who the election favors. It is not about that. It is about a country’s leadership doing everything but leading. It is about the right of these people to choose their government and then to expect that that government will answer to them.

The way the Iranians have responded to this makes me ashamed that we in the US did so little when we had an obviously corrupt election in 2000. Which brings up another point. I’ve seen people say this is just like our Presidential election in 2000. The fact of the matter is that there will never be a wholly uncorrupt election. The whys and hows are not the point. The point is that why the hell weren’t we doing anything about it? How much braver and stronger are the Iranian people who are out in the streets risking (and in some cases, giving) their lives to have a fair election? It makes me feel ashamed that we were so complacent, that we just sat back and let things run their course, when we live in a country that wouldn’t have shut down our access to the outside world, that wouldn’t have put dissenters under house arrest or killed students if they questioned the outcome of the election. It makes me feel like I didn’t do enough in my own country, that these people are willing to do so much when the risk is so high. And because of that I feel like I should do everything I can to help them, even from half a world away.

I’m about to go out to Union Square to join the rally in support of the Iranian protesters. I know they have been shut off from the world but I hope that, though it might not do much for them, they can feel the love and support, the admiration and outrage that so many of us are feeling for them. You are not alone. None of you are alone and every one of you is an inspiration to the rest of the world.

Mirrored from Antagonia.net.

On the walk home from work, I saw two boys who could not have been more than 12 holding hands in front of me. Then, one of them swept in and pecked the other one on the cheek. Instead of being all disgusted, which is what you would expect, the other boy grinned back and swatted at him, and this devolved into a bit of a punch-you-punch-me thing. Then they stopped punching each other, the one who had swatted first kissed the other boy on the cheek, and then they started holding hands again, and began conversing about AWESOME MONSTER TRUCKS.

It was one of the most uplifting things I have seen in my life. They were acting exactly the way straight kids that age act, where they are shy and very sweet about kissing, and with no pretension. They didn’t act the way people expect gay boys to act– they were in no way effeminate; they were very boyish little boys with high top sneakers and denim shorts and oversized tee shirts. But they were kissing and holding hands. In public. On a crowded city street. And that says something about how people’s perceptions are changing. That two very young boys are okay with not only telling each other that they like each other, but letting strangers know.

This is in sharp contrast to what is going on in a country where, according to their President, this would never happen because they don’t have homosexuals.

I have a few things I would like to say based on some misconceptions I have seen from other people. I have seen a few people point out that Moussavi may not be any better a man than Ahmadinejad. That is beside the point.

We, Americans and Europeans and anyone else reading this or watching the news or checking Twitter or anything else, we do not have a right to choose Iran’s leadership. We can have opinions about the candidates, but our opinions about the candidates have nothing to do with the issue at hand. The issue at hand is not even whether the election was rigged (although it seems pretty obvious it was.) The issue is that people have a right to complain and protest and question the system and not worry about being censored or silenced or, more importantly, beaten or killed. They have a right to say it was rigged and not fall victims to human rights atrocities. It does not matter who the election favors. It is not about that. It is about a country’s leadership doing everything but leading. It is about the right of these people to choose their government and then to expect that that government will answer to them.

The way the Iranians have responded to this makes me ashamed that we in the US did so little when we had an obviously corrupt election in 2000. Which brings up another point. I’ve seen people say this is just like our Presidential election in 2000. The fact of the matter is that there will never be a wholly uncorrupt election. The whys and hows are not the point. The point is that why the hell weren’t we doing anything about it? How much braver and stronger are the Iranian people who are out in the streets risking (and in some cases, giving) their lives to have a fair election? It makes me feel ashamed that we were so complacent, that we just sat back and let things run their course, when we live in a country that wouldn’t have shut down our access to the outside world, that wouldn’t have put dissenters under house arrest or killed students if they questioned the outcome of the election. It makes me feel like I didn’t do enough in my own country, that these people are willing to do so much when the risk is so high. And because of that I feel like I should do everything I can to help them, even from half a world away.

I’m about to go out to Union Square to join the rally in support of the Iranian protesters. I know they have been shut off from the world but I hope that, though it might not do much for them, they can feel the love and support, the admiration and outrage that so many of us are feeling for them. You are not alone. None of you are alone and every one of you is an inspiration to the rest of the world.

Mirrored from Antagonia.net.