Friday, July 07, 2006

So, Georgia and New York have joined in paving the way to a ban on homosexual marriage. Or rather, paved the way to limiting marriage to the union of man and woman. Call it what you will, marriage, civil union, forever-togetherness under the eye of the IRS. Homosexuals should have the right to have their lifelong union recognized by every state in this country, should have the right to the same protections as men and women who also choose these lifelong unions, and should, above all, have all the rights that heterosexual parents have. Because this includes protecting their children. Children, above all, should be protected! They are all ready hurt enough in our irresponsible society. To further this hurt because our justice system is too afraid to challenge outdated laws is despicable.

I read these articles--a triplicate of the Georgia and New York situation and an analysis on New York--and felt the moistening of my eyes which comes of PMS and actor training, meaning my close connection to the pulse of life, meaning my recognition of human dignity and my striving for compassion. I'm sorry. Just because a legislation has been leaning toward a certain social rule for 200 years does NOT mean this social rule is just! How long was slavery a social rule? How long was segregation a social rule? Is it right? Of course not!

And then when lawmakers question the right of homosexual parents to have children, I practically lose it. There is such a shortage of loving, devoted parents in this country, that to limit the number even more--cutting off couples who would be taking in those children in need of adoption--is mean. It's mean. Yes, you're being mean. All you lawmakers are MEAN. Please think of it in these very black and white terms. You are making a whole part of society feel alienated and wrong.

You didn't pick them for Team America and now they have to go stand against the wall. Watch out, because they'll start their own game, and you won't have so much room on the field.

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Bathroom crying.

Going into a bathroom, at work, at school, at an anachronous musical theatre frat in Philadelphia. Walking--or schlepping, or rushing--into a stall, and sobbing, snotting, tearing up and hastily wiping away.

My mom does it. I do it. I'm sure my sister's done it. I'll have to ask my other female friends if they have, and maybe I'll ask my dad too. The deal is that crying in public is just not suitable. Just not allowable. Horribly embarassing and excruciatingly personal.

When I was in middle school--maybe eleven years old?--I started crying at a piano recital. It was another moment of "messing up," after weeks of practice and a minute of nervousness. I hated crying in the audience, ashamed of my performance, wondering why it had to be this way and, now, wondering why it meant so much to me. I started crying even more because of the fact that I was crying.

Then there was the time Mom told me that I had betrayed her trust, all because of a miscommunication (I had not in fact betrayed anything), and I started sobbing, unjustly accused and hysterically worried for my mother's love. I was on the metro bus back to school. I hopped out, went to a tree, and cried into the phone to my father. People stared. I then went to the Animal Sciences building and cried to my sister. I was crouched over sobbing and my underwear showed. In the midst of telling me that this would blow over (I was sure it wouldn't), Emily told me to pull my skirt down and sit up.

And now, sitting at the office, so ashamed to be tearing up and wondering if I can handle a long distance relationship. I feel sick. I went into the bathroom and sobbed for 30 seconds, but that was cruelly short. And will I be able to cry when I finally have the space to?

Wouldn't it be nice if we could just get these tears out when they wanted to come, instead of saving them for a public toilet? Or a nervous breakdown in middle age? Wouldn't it be nice if every office had a Room for Tears where if you felt like sobbing, you could just go and sob, and be hugged or not, depending on how you felt. I'm sure I could get Kleenex in on this.

Go see The Cassandra Project at the DC Fringe festival in July. It will drive my point intensely, and exquisitely, home.