Subject: ROBERTS' RULES: Exam
From: "Shelly Roberts" <[email-masked]>
Date: Thu, 16 Apr 1998 13:22:49 +0000

ROBERTS' RULES

by 

Shelly Roberts

AUTO-PROCTOLOGY

There comes in every lifetime, at perfectly inopportune opportunities,
a sad, dark moment of the soul. A bare sweep second's full breadth
look at one's own mortality and contribution. At the friends and
accomplices one has chosen. At the tally and the merit of it all. What
have we done? What have we done?

And this one's mine. 

I was sorrowful, but not surprised at all still to look up this 
morning to see that the worst of the gay-bashers are still us.

Other businesses in other communities don't find it necessary to
assume that anyone owes them a living regardless of the quality of
products or services delivered just because they fly the flag. Some of
our businesses still do. Many would say that many of ours still do.

And on the other hand, other communities support their own businesses
when given a choice of equal quality. Not us. Not often. Not often
enough. Quid pro chapter 11.

Why is that? Tit for tat? Haven't we anything better to do with our
tats?

We've missed something important here.

And we take great pleasure in trashing our hardest workers. What is
THAT about?

Elizabeth Birch, who has probably single-handedly done more for moving
the gay and lesbian movement into the mainstream politically, than
most other people dream of, calls for a march and gets soundly
trashed. Personally. Doesn't matter if you agree with her.
Politically. Or even personally. It doesn't matter if you are planning
to go or stay home. Or if you would have done it a different way.
She's an out-there-on-the-line fighter. For you. And I've always found
character assassination such an odd way to say thank you.

JoAnn Loulan, who wrote the books on lesbian sexuality, gave us
benchmarks and understanding in the midst of all our disappearing
acts, now sees a man, but identifies as a lesbian. And needs to wear a
flack jacket in lesbian public. Because some of us say she isn't. Say
she can't be. Isn't allowed to be. Just because we said so. Like we
have any right. Like self-definition hasn't always been part of the
manifesto.

Ellen DeGeneres, the only honest lesbian formerly on tv, has been
soundly vilified BY LESBIANS for not showing every manner and stripe
of lesbian from granola to leather in the three and half minutes she
had on the air to get us any exposure at all. She didn't make her
character a mainstream, girl next door model because it was the only
way she could get on tv. She made her character a mainstream, girl
next door model because that was, like it or not, the roll model she
is.

I have always had trouble with the people in our organizations who
forget that we are, most of us, merely recruits in this volunteer
rainbow army, and it would be nice, once in a while, to hear "thank
you for the ten minutes you gave us" instead of "WE NEEDED AN HOUR!"

Lately I'm beginning to think that we just can't take "yes" for an
answer.

If you came here for sweetness and light today, joviality and
jocularity, maybe you should come back tomorrow. I'm feeling just a
bit more than underwhelmed by us all this morning. I'm sure it's just
a phase. I'm certain that tomorrow morning I will wake up to discover
that it was only the pepperoni-pineapple-goat cheese pizza I ate too
late. And the community I really dream of, the one that comes to help
when we need, that appreciates efforts, even if disagreeing with
direction, is the new reality, and the nastiness we have come to
expect from each other was just a little indigestive delusion.

It seems to me that we are a community which doesn't much understand
the concept of the word. That we are a community in search of a
murder. And not just any murder, a really, really, good, big juicy,
exemplary one to reforge our victim links. We came together in
adversity, and it seems we don't know any other way to interact.
What's the matter with a little joy?

Here's a thought. Next time you find yourself on automatic pilot to
pronounce to the universe, just how cynical and kewl you are, opt for
pollyana, just for a change. You. That's right, I'm talking to you. We
all do it. Slip into our snide suits without even realizing what we're
wearing, or what it says about us. If being supportive chances on
embarrassing, risk it. Just once. Then just once more. You can start
it, you know. See what saying something nice can do. Remember how hard
it is to keep from laughing when someone else is. Or how impossible it
is not to feel better when you force your mouth muscles into
pretending a smile. In our case, we don't even have to pretend.
Although we do apparently do have to force it. Because we are so long
out of practice. Our work may not be over, but our gains are
unprecedented. The glass is absolutely half full too.

Personally, I'll lead the applause. Because frankly, I'm tired of
believing that no good (just to shake the old order up a bit) trans/
lesbian/ bi/ gay deed ever goes unpunished. 

<Pollyana Mode Engaged> Write and tell me something great that just
happened in YOUR community. Something wonderful somebody did because
they could. At [email-masked]. I could use it today. And as
long as I'm in the neighborhood, I might as well go first: 

Just in case I neglected to tell you, thank you for the ten minutes
you gave.

There. I feel better already.

 _______________________ 

(C) 1998. Shelly Roberts. All rights reserved.

 A one-time simultaneous print right is hereby granted to
subscribing newspapers; all other rights, including electronic or
digital reproduction are reserved. Must be reprinted only in its
entirety.

Shelly Roberts is an internationally syndicated columnist, journalist
and author of the next set of Roberts' Rules: Lesbian Dating. (June
'98 Spinsters Ink.)