From: "Shelly Roberts" Date: Thu, 16 Apr 1998 13:22:49 +0000 Subject: ROBERTS' RULES: Exam 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. Write and tell me something great that just happened in YOUR community. Something wonderful somebody did because they could. At pollyana@mindspring.com. 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.)