Heartland Pride is this weekend, and I’ve got goosebumps just thinking about how honored I am to be there Saturday as a Planned Parenthood volunteer. I full embrace gay rights, and believe it’s a sad fact that we should even have to fight for them. The measure of a person is not what sets of bits they like to rub together, it’s in their deeds. But, because we don’t live in that world where you’re not judged on who you love, I’m going to be there, standing up for my brothers, sisters, and in-betweeners. Straight, gay, lebian, bisexual, asexual, pan sexual, intersexed, transsexual, transgender, I don’t care how you identify, I for one will not judge you based on what’s in your pants, or who you love.
Never before in my life did I think I would be politically active. The blowhards from the street corners to the voting booths, to the marble waiting areas, to the highest elected office generally behave in such a way as to make my teeth hurt. Rather than yell louder, it’s been my practice to be the stream and flow around the boulder in my path. (Water is amazingly powerful, given time.) That ability to both accept and move around an obstacle might be what I needed to finally get out there and make some noise for what I believe in. It started with the slutwalk last year, picked up steam by taking donations for Planned Parenthood at the Samurai of Spoken Word. My voyage reached cruising altitude by saying yes, I will spend a couple of hours out in the heat speaking up and reaching out. If it’s true, if the journey is the reward, I’m looking right at it.