To hell with Weiner, give me Joe Namath in pantyhose

Prior to the Twitter kerfuffle, I knew nothing of Anthony Weiner and I'm not interested in him now. All kinds of people have been having all kinds of sex for a long time. So what?

That said, it's funny how the blood red rightie blogs out there are clamoring on and on about Weiner, but had little to say about that Nevada dandy, John Ensign.

When it comes to sex scandals, I stick to one of my cardinal rules: The Only Sex You Need To Worry About Is The Sex You're Having.

I am not completely mum on sex scandals. I wrote about Senator Larry Craig when that scandal broke. In fact, I wrote about him twice.

John Edwards also got my attention.

Yeah, yeah. This stuff has been going on forever. The righties can have their fun over some silly underwear pic. I'd rather dig Joe Namath in pantyhose in 1973. HELL YEAH!

You were always on my mind

I was cruising some blood-red conservative blogs earlier today because I like to keep my finger on the pulse of the other side. As usual, I found we lefties have nothing to worry about.

For some reason, my surfing, reminded me of an article I wrote in August 2006 about the crossdressing community in Northeast Ohio. It is one of my most widely read and linked pieces. Although the transgender community is as diverse as its members, for the article I focused on heterosexual men who present as females with varying regularity.

There were plenty of young glam crossdressers and fetishists, but the ones that compelled me most were the middle-aged men who were quiet in their compulsion. During group picnics and get-togethers, I'd find myself talking to a regular joe, except he'd be in a polyester pant suit and espadrilles, clutching a straw purse. They always wore lipstick. As often as not, they were politically conservative and regular church goers. Some of the events were even held in church basements.

Some of the crossdressers were married, others divorced. All of them had stories about how friends and family eschewed them on account of their desire to wear feminine clothing, unless they were still in the closet. When I really garnered their trust, they would slip from their contrived female voice to their regular masculine voice.

"So now I don't see my grandchildren anymore," Geraldine would tell me in Jerry's deep voice as she worried the tendrils of an ill-fitting blond wig.

Anyhow, I thought you'd all like to know that my favorite conservatives are the ones in wrap-around dresses and size 13 slingbacks. I wonder how many of the blood-thirsty red bloggers and their followers have a secret. Although his is an entirely different issue, need I invoke the name of good Senator Craig?

Hm.

There's plenty more to read in the article. And here is the associated blog post. That is all.

Last notes on Craig

Much has been written about the Craig debacle over the past days and I was glad to add my essay on closeted gay conservatives to the fray. If you haven't read it, I welcome you to do so. It's a bit different than some of the angry political barbs flying back and forth. And the comment section is wonderful. The whole thing has given me pause, so here's a few notes in closing.

All Craig allegedly did was solicit consensual adult sex. No kids, no blood, no guns, no drugs. Didn't all us liberals hate the lynching Clinton withstood over a consensual blow job?

It is homophobia that forces gays into the closet (or bathroom).

Imagine being a 12-year-old boy with burgeoning feelings of homosexuality. Imagine being surrounded by homophobic adult males. In the worst case, they're talking about how that little queer got what he deserved. Or maybe their talking about how all the homos are going to burn in hell.

The fear and shame that would instill are unspeakable--something a heterosexual person cannot fully understand. And the fear is real. Homophobia cost Matthew Sheppard his life. Back in the 80s, a gay friend of mine was beat to an inch of his life by Cleveland mafioso street thugs. They did it just for kicks.

Is it any surprise that a young gay boy would do ANYTHING to convince those around him that he is not gay? That he would tell himself I've got to act like I hate gays too. And I better be convincing. I better cry out against it and politic against it and maybe if I shout loud enough, I'll even start to convince myself.

That sort of overcompensation makes perfect sense to me. And that's why I'm hesitant to use the word hypocrite.

Sure, one can say that, as an adult, Craig or others like him should come clean. But once you are ensconced in the lie, it gets harder and harder and harder to break out of it--there is more at stake, more people involved.

One note to those who are quick to say Craig or others like him are putting their wives' health at risk. I don't think its fair to assume he did not practice safe sex. Or that his wife did not know of his practices. We have no idea about these things. Would it be fair to make the same claim of any bisexual man? That his female partners are at risk and that he should be vilified for it?

Despite our perceived sophistication, homophobia still riddles our society. It seems worse for the men. In my experience, straight women happily embrace gay women as friends and feel no threat. But seeing gay and straight guys hanging out together isn't so common. Even the most liberal guys I know feel a need to occasionally announce that they are on the straight side of the fence. They have a way of conferring that they are secure in their manhood. They often wrap it around a joke or weave it casually into conversation.

Homosexuality is an elemental part of the human experience.

It should be considered by everyone as a personal and inalienable right. Craig's demise (or Foley's or Haggert's ) is really the liberal's opportunity to draw attention to this in an intelligent way.

Peace out--

Erin

Senator Craig redux

So you're born.

You're a kid. You're attracted to toys. You like crayons and dolls, but you're given trucks and soldiers. And downcast glances from the surrounding adults when you protest. You are told what is appropriate and what is not.

So you do what is appropriate because you want to be a good boy. You want the validation good boys get.

With every passing season, you have urges to do more and more inappropriate things. Sure, girls are pretty. But as you twirl around with them at the Freshman Snowball, it is the angular boys who make your eyes smoky.

You look away, you force yourself, telling yourself it is wrong and unnatural. You just have to try harder, be more conservative. Behave yourself and it will go away. It is silly and stupid. You will grow out of it.

(something deep inside of you says this is horribly wrong. But you have no choice, so you ignore this instinct)

You go to the conservative church with your parents. You embrace all things conservative. If you practice, practice, practice, the thing inside you will go away. You pray to God. If you are an enthusiastic member of His team, He will surely erase the wrong thing.

(shhhh. don't worry. no one will ever find out what you do with those other boys in secret places that feels so good)

Conservatives all around you all the time. Your family, telling you what is right and what to be. You find the more you act like them, the more approval they give you. Approval feels good. You go to a conservative college and keep talking loud and conservatively.

(you are very quiet during the stolen moments with the beautiful boys)

You marry a conservative woman, one who will match your burgeoning political career. You mount and impregnate her. These are simple motions. The children come.

The older you get, the more you realize that the urges inside of you are not going to go away. They are elemental. And The Other people would accept them. But they wear blue and ride donkeys. You wear red and are high on a lumbering elephant, which means money and power and adoration from all the conservatives. You speak their language and wish, wish, wish with all your heart that you could believe it. So you speak it louder in order to imbue the words with power. You denounce and denounce. Sometimes you even think it is working.

(all of this is very big, so you must keep the lovers very anonymous and secret. you may not even exchange names)

Years pass. You instill your children with the conservative values you want so desperately to believe because nothing could be worse than the hell you have lived. And every week you pray at church, searching for an answer, praying it could be different, hoping this thing is not genetic and that it is in one of your children.

(your desire does not wane. you want and want and want, something sexual and brilliant and dynamic, but this you may not have for such a thing would surely be discovered. life is not fair.)

The covert tricks and behaviors are easy enough to learn. Sometimes money changes hands, sometimes not. The acts are played out in filthy places. They are not the honest sex acts you crave

(the most dishonest sex acts are those with your wife you are sorry you are sorry sorry sorry sorr)

the simple human connection with another man,

(it hurts no one but you can't have it)

but they are all you may have, so you settle for the sordid couplings and all their banal satisfaction.

(sorry can't have it and help. who would ever know it's just the taptaptap of my foot just like Dorothy trying to get the hell out of Oz and I've got something that will put you over the rainbow big guy)

And in one instant inside a vile public bathroom stall, your entire life crumbles.