LEADESHIP: WHERE IS IT? WHO IS IT?

We've got trouble right here in LGBT City.

We are adrift. We are a skiff without even the smallest rudder. We bounce from issue to issue all under the umbrella of "wanting our equal rights".

Now.

We don't understand why we dont't have them yet. We voted overwhelmingly for Obama.

He was our saviour, no?

No.

We did everything we were supposed to do. We bought McMansions in Summerlin. We got a table at the big HRC Gala.

And rented a tux too.

We even adopted perfectly lovely mixed race children whom we will screw up over time just like straight people.

What more could they want from us?

How about a leader?

It aint Obama.

It never was.

We put a cloak of Gay Divinty on him that he never said he would wear. When Prop 8 passed, we turned our vitriol on the Black community and said it was their fault and how dare they betray us?

After all, we voted for "him".

Turns out it wasn't the Black folks fault. It was the power sucking vacuum at the top of the "leadership" ladder of the LGBT "community" who screwed up by doing what they had always done.

Our so called "leadership" is moribund and molding like that cake of Miss Havishams sitting in a musty corner of a Victorian sitting room.

Like members of some Republican country club, they sit with stogies and Mojitos in hand pondering whether or not to get off of their asses and actually go down to the fields and pull a weed or just stay in air conditioned comfort and chortle about how the field workers get all sweaty and while that may be "hot", it won't happen "in my Guccis".

Har.

Har.

These self appointed Nabobs of LGBTwood so thoroughly screwed up the battle for Prop 8 that it spawned a new community of grassroots activists across the country. After all, "I can" is the American way of life. Gay or Straight.

That is a welcome development. However, now, like a dead mother spider( how apt an analogy for the Gay "leadership" if I do say so myself. And I do.)with dozens of babies running all over the kitchen floor scattering hither and yon, the LGBT movement has become some scatter shot approach to achieving equality. At best.

While not denigrating the amazing efforts of groups like MEET IN THE MIDDLE and STAND OUT FOR EQUALITY, we will never have anything except pieces of equality here and there until we find our Leader.

Thing is, we may just have to grow him or her.

We have a long and hard slog ahead of us. Are we prepared for that? Are we willing to drive through the dark in hateful places that don't want us or to board buses and go and demand our rights? If the water cannons are turned on us, will we cry and run away?

Or will we stand our ground and finally learn the words to "We shall overcome"?

A lot of colored Gays, myself included, take great umbrage whenever a White male compares the Gay struggle to the struggle for Civil Rights by the (my) Black community.

It is NOT the same and please don't try to co-opt it.

A Gay person can "Butch up" and fly under the radar. A Black person seldom can "White up" and do the same.

It's especially irritating to hear such arguments coming from White males. I don't know how many White males understand that Gay or Straight, you truly are at the top of the food chain and your sufferings, however egregious they may be, are not ever going to equal the suffering and inequities of life doled out by other White males on Women and minorities. Sorry, that's the way it is.

I do understand why White Gays identify with the Civil Rights movement.

THIS IS AMERICA AND OUR CONSTITUTION CLEARLY STATES THAT ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL.

But. It is not the same.

Now, may I suggest that we look at the tactics of the Civil Rights movement and study the work of Bayard Rustin (please Google him if you have ANY desire to make change) and take away from these elements the framework of what OUR movement can be.

We must have civil disobedience on a scale that this country hasn't seen since 1964 in the deepest parts of Alabama. We must withhold our dollar contributions to national organizations that say we are all on the same boat as they drive off in a bus with us underneath it.

We MUST paper over our divisions within our own LGBT community in order to move ahead.

Guess what? A lesbian is every bit as good as a Gay guy is as good as a Transgender is a good as an HIV poz person is as good as a Black, Latino, Asian, Native American, Disabled person in the LGBT "rainbow" of things.

We use that rainbow symbol, not because it's so pretty and "gay". We use it because, much like the wonderful awfulness (awful because of why it even needed to be done.) of those giant AIDS quilts of the not too far past, the rainbow reflects the amazing diversity of the LGBT community.

In order to move ahead and attain what truly does belong to us, we must embrace that rainbow. We must understand that no one group can or ever will speak for the LGBT community.

We must set a place at the table for everyone.

We need Leadership that looks like us.

That looks like America.

Which brings me back to "Leadership".

Who are our leaders? Where are they? Are they there and the current leechist system at the top squashing them as they arise (talk to the MEET IN THE MIDDLE folks about that)?

Are you a leader?

Am I?

Maybe.

More to come.

A GUIDE TO SOME FINE EATING IN EL PEUBLO DE LOS

THE BIGGEST BUMMER ABOUT LIVING IN VEGAS IS THAT THERE AREN'T ANY CHEAP, GOOD PLACES TO EAT, AND BUFFETS DON'T EVEN COUNT! SO I WENT TO L.A. TO EAT! OH YEAH, I'M NOT COMPLETELY SHALLOW. I ALSO DRANK. BUT THAT'S NEXT BLOG ENTRY.

BABYBOIS, I STARTED IN HIGHLAND PARK WHERE I FUCKED UP SOME FISH TACOS AT LA ESTRELLA! THEN I GOT A BAG OF FRUTAS MIXTAS FROM A RECENT ARRIVAL TO OUR COUNTRY. I GOT BACK ON THE GOLD LINE (YES, REAL CITIES HAVE PUBLIC TRANSPORTATION) AND WENT TO CHINATOWN.

NOW, I KNOW YOU MUST BE ASKING YOURSELF, "DIDN'T FATASS JUST SAY HE JUST ATE"? WHY YES VIRGINIA, I DID. BUT, WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIEND MR. FOUR DOS O I WAS MUNCHED OUT BY THE TIME I HIT C-TOWN. I PROCEEDED TO PORK BAO MYSELF INTO A STUPOR THEN FOLLOWED IT UP WITH LUCKY DELI WHERE A WHOLE MEAL IS THREE DOLLARS. US.

SO, I WALKED OVER TO LITTLE TOKYO WITH MY FOUR DOS O FRIEND TO KEEP ME COMPANY AND AFTER HITTING A COUPLE OF MUSEUMS (WHICH REAL CITIES DON'T CONNECT TO CASINOS. I'M NOT VEGAS HATING. I'M JUST SAYING.) AND THEN FOUND A PLACE THAT SELLS OCTOPUS ON A STICK! UMM! YOU KNOW, IF YOU FRY IT, MY PEOPLE WILL EAT ANYTHING.

AFTER SOME MOCHI (JAPANESE ICE CREAM BUNS) I FELT I SHOULD GET BACK TO SOUTH PASADENA WHERE EVEN BLACK IS WHITE. ON MY WAY I WENT FOR ONE OF MY FAVORITE DISHES AT MY FAVORITE TRANNIES WITH KNIVES IN THEIR WIGS BAR, JALISCO.

AT JALISCO MY FAVORITE HE/SHE BARTENDER MADE ME A HEALTHY MEAL OF TECATE, LIMON, SAL Y CLAMATO. I FINISHED THIS OFF WITH A DELICIOUS ORDER OF PORK RINDS WHICH CAME IN A DUSTY BAG AND WERE PERFECTLY STALE.

YES.

HEAVEN.

HOW THE GAYS LEARNED TO SURVIVE WATERBOARDING, THANK YOU CONNIE CERNY!

Just 19 miles and 20 years east of Downtown L.A. there was a little burgh called, West Covina.

It might still be there.

Really.

I swear.

I left. Of my own free will. My own.

If you can imagine Satans Sock Hop, you can imagine lunch time at Edgewood High School. It's just six degrees of separation away from your 19th nervous breakdown.

If you're not smart. Or ruthless.

Or Mormon. What a happy people. Happy. They are.

Why are they so damn happy? Is it the underwear?

But.

I digress.

Like a pyrotechnic Lucille Ball during the "Lucy" show period ,yet, somehow, wrapped in the sylphlike body of a future homosexual 16 year old boy, Craig Steven Curtis was Edgewoods' own "Little Miss Dynamite". Everything seemed to blow up in his wake like one of those depth charges in an old Farley Granger Navy movie. You never quite saw the water part, but, only seconds later, KA BOOOM!

Quelle strange.

That's our First Lady used to do porn (French)for, "That who smells of sulfer". Demon Seed. Rosemary's Baby. Child of the Damned. One Bad Mamma Jamma.

Do I have to spell it out?

"Listen Connie, all you have to do is pull lookout duty, I'll do the rest!", Craig grabbed Connies frightened, yet, excited forearm. "By the time Kinzler is back, the deed will be done."

Connie nervously smiled. She wasn't a bad girl. We didn't have those. Well, later we'll get to Maully. "I think it's awful!", Connie said as she wolfed down a salad of tasteless lettuce with wet dressing. "What time?"

"11:48 on the dot", said Edgewood's own Boris Badenov.

"What if Mr. Kinzler comes?", Connie was almost giddy with the titillation of it all.

"Flash your boobies! Oh, wait, that won't work on him. Hmm, Get your braces stuck in his cardigan and play for time!" Never one at a loss for a back up plan that Craig.

"WHAT?" Connie was beginning to think she had gotten herself in a little too deep. After all, was it really worth getting into trouble over THIS?

"Listen Cerny", The Evil Debutante gritted through his teeth, "either you help us with this, or, or, I'll tell everyone you think Danny Ramos is hot!"

Ruthless.

"Hey! There goes Kinzler. Now stay here while I do it and DON"T let anybody in. As soon as you hear the back door of the choir room close, you scram!" The plot had been set in motion by He Who Leaves No Reflection.

30 minutes later a lovely, somehow getting plumper by the day, lovely Blonde swept in to the choir room with her other "Soph Sounds" (a vocal choir group of the best girl singers at Edgewood. Pretty and Blonde, they were like a Mormon Milk Calendar for hot boys on missions in Black neighborhoods in Chicago.).

Alison (head Soph) let out an audible perfect C gasp. Jamie shockingly exclaimed, "Oh My G.." she slapped her hand over her mouth before she dared say the Lords name in vain.

Laughter began to erupt. The lunchtime crowd was back for choir.

The blonde pudge ran from the room in tears! The Sophs ran after her but not before Alison turned, Dorothy Hamill flip spinning, and glared at the B.P.A.U (the Bed Pigs of America United). "You boys, are just awful!" the Singing Nun screamed.

We in the B.P.A.U. fell into fits of laughter.

There on the black board was the ultimate insult to a teenage girl having a problem with after school sessions at Ed Taco,"Katie Kow-A-Moo-Ah". A simple Italian family named had been turned in to an insult of epic proportions.

"Dude, that's not funny!", Mike McElroy grabbed my Hang Ten shirt by the collar. "Why did you do that!?" He released me and I grabbed my Jheri Curl juice and proceeded to give myself a pick me upper spray. "I didn't do it! I thought you did. Jim, did you? Jimmy? YOU, new strange kid, aww, never mind."

I got a flash!

"Whoever did that is in serious trouble!" Kinzler was PISSED. His cardigan was straining to the limits of the Dacron holding back his now enraged, jiggling stomach. "Derek! In my office! Mr. Washington! Now!"

Right before the door slammed, I realized Beelzobob was cackling silently as he picked up his books demurely and ran out like the Clam Digger wearing Minx that he was.

And why does Connie Cerny look like she needs electro shock..?



"WASHINGTON!"

Shit.

"Who did this?" Kinzlers vein was doing that thing over his eye that it did whenever he got excited. Or excited. Wink. Wink. " I know you know."

"You know, not everything that goes on around here involves me you know." SO not true, but, this one time, I REALLY wasn't involved.

BUT. I knew who was.

The grilling and threats went on for hours. Everything in a school teachers' drawer of post medieval torture kit was used.

I knew. But I don't tell. So, don't ask.

"What did Dicky K have to say to you," Cruella stared me in the eyes. "Hmph, said I had to know who was in on it. Told him I didn't. I held. I knew it was you." I looked back at him with a smile in my eyes. I mean, I had to admire this one, usually I was in on them. How come I didn't get included on this mission I wondered. Who Helped? As I was perplexing a little rat started to creep away.

"Stop right there Connie Cerny!", I screeched. "That wasn't your handwriting, OH! You pulled lookout! Ha. You little felon!" Cerny began a feeble protest, "I Didn.." "Save it Connie, you've got fun and guilt written all over your braces! Why didn't I get in on this?" I was actually a little put out. It was me after all who timed the great 4th of July multi front assault on Sandy Lee's house. I stole the sugar the night someones gas tank seized their engine. I rode in the car trunk to get in the Edgewood Drive-in when we spied on Alison making out with some Mormon Lothario, I deserved to be there.

It was always fun to bug the Soph Sounds. They never looked better than when their faces were beet red. It showed off the Periwnkle Blue in those gawd awful empire waist salutes to pregnant prom night.

Connie began to tear up. "She's gonna pee on her self!" Craig got close to her, "listen Cerny, don't blow this, you know the rule. STICK TO THE STORY. NO MATTER WHAT!"

"Miss Cerny." Kinzler had new prey. "Come here for a second please." Kinzler looked like a benevolent Goebbels awaiting the noon train.

"She's gonna break", I told He who has green blood.

"She knows the rule! STICK TO THE STORY. AND UNTIL YOU HERE FROM ME, DON'T CHANGE IT!"

"Listen Connie, Derek already told me that you did this. He felt bad for you because I said I was going to have you suspended because I already knew. He asked if I would let it go if he told me the truth." Goebbels had her right where he wanted her. "I better call your mother, I can't believe you would do something like this. It's so sad...."

"NO! It was all Craigs idea! I just watched the door! I'm so sorry! PLEASE MR. KINZLER, don't call my mom!" Connie folded like a white lady waiting on AAA after 2am on the corner of Martin Luther King and Ghetto.

"CURTIS!" Kinzly was NOT happy. For two solid hours, even though the gig was up, Lucretia kept up the front. In the face of every threat and every coercion, Craig stood firm. "I was at Ed Taco".

Again. And again.

As Connie lay splayed across a table moaning about the harsh treatment she had been afforded, out from Kinzlers office wafted Satan's Little Helper.

"And?", I inquired.

"Please! As if that one could crack me. Cerny, you're on your own, he's calling your mom". Craig pulled out a tube of bubblegum flavored lip gloss and turned around and walked away to the sounds of Baby Seals being clubbed to death. I followed him , Connie WAS being REALLY emotional.

"He's not calling her Mom. He thought the whole thing was hilarious. He said Connie cracked the moment she walked in and started crying." Soon to be a Blonde Barbara Stanwyck stand in turned to me and said, "It's pretty simple. No matter what they do to you, STICK TO THE STORY UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM ME."

There's a moral to this story.

Not the one you think.

I bet that Al Queda has the same basic principle. "No matter what they do to you, STICK TO THE STORY UNTIL YOU HEAR FROM ME." That's why Cheney et al had to resort to waterboarding and God only knows what else to get info out of the "suspected" terrorists.

Personally, I think Al Queda are closer to Connie Cerny than the two can't wait to blow this town Fag teens in our little fable. I think the pussys of Al Queda probably squeal like Pigs on a line of really good meth.

My point?

Lt. Dan Choi was recently discharged from the Armed Forces because he's Gay. So what you say?

Well, Dan Choi speaks fluent Arabic.

Al Queda speaks Arabic.

See where I'm going here?

Two things:

1/ A Homo is an interrogators worst nightmare. We don't give. Whatever you've got, we've had worse done. Or done worse.

2/ You can torture an Al Queda "suspected" terrorist all you want...but, you can't make him speak English.

Don't you think it's time to end "Don't Ask Don't Tell"?

OH SHUT THE HELL UP or NOT ANOTHER AFRICAN AMERICAN NEGRO

OK. So, Disney, purveyors of all that is good and merchandisable in the world, has finally made a movie with a Black Princess.

Egads!

Really.

I swear.

Cue the indignant, ignant, "African Americans".

I'm a lot of things.

A lot.

A whole lot.

I'm chubby (yet loveable).

I'm high yella (yet loveable).

I'm a truth teller (yet loveable).

I'm a total Bitch (yet loveable).

I'm hung like a Dominican Porn Star Donkey (yet loveable. Yet.)

I'm from West Covina (how could I be anything but loveable?).

One thing I am not?

African American.

I'm Black.

Bitchez.

Ooh, nothing gets arise out of me quicker than some nappy headed Negro spouting off about just about anything once they say , "African American".

Porquoi?

That's "we couldn't win a war if we were fighting on Gulliver's Island with Gigantor on our side" (you know, French) for, Negro please. The minute I hear "African American" I know I'm about to hear somebody 'bout to justify their time at Howard or Harvard.

On a scholarship.

Can I tell you a dirty little secret that all Black folk know? Promise you won't tell anybody else? Just between you and me? Ok. Here it T-I-S. Aint no Negro EVER said "African American" if there weren't no ofays in the room.

Uh, I mean, White people.

Yes. I meant White people. My not so good.

When White people are around, Mr. or Miss Scholarship must immediately bust out with the multi-sylebonics.

Just 'cause.

Just 'cause they have to prove that going to college or reading Nikki Giovanni in "African American Literature 101" doesn't mean that they lost their "Blackness".

Therefore, the rest of us have to be subjected to multi-syllabic versions of racial definitions that were born in the lactose intolerant, moribund brains of failed "leaders" such as Jesse Jackson and that pimp with the processed hair, Sharpton ("Free Tawanna Brawley!". Or some such.). All because Leshawn went to college.

Bother.

Well. So, Disney has the temerity after something like 300 years of making like only Blondes could have fun in fairytale kingdoms full of witches and strangely Gayesque Princes, has finally given us, Tianna or Lequisha or, who gives a flippetdy foo. Yes! Our first Black Princess.

Oh Happy Day! Massa Walt don gon give us a fantasy of our own! Wade in the water! He washed my sins away! Little colored girls can now be just as fucked up as little White Susies with body image issues and unrealistic expectations!

First Obama, now this. Can a Negro handle so much deliverance on such a short canoe trip?

Well?

Nope, according to the "African Americans" , this princess is too light and lives in New Orleans which is a cesspool of Black blood on golden streets paved with tears and therefore, inaccurate.

Thank God.

I have a feeling we'll handle misguided little Chanels and Lexus' just as well as all the Tiffany's, Brittney's and Ambers.

But NO! Not according to the graduates of "A Different World" Jr. College. And Harvard. Nope. You see, whenever and whatever we finally get for "us", it aint ne'er gone be good enough for those who need to prove that reading Tolstoy didn't effectively ruin their ability to appreciate Red Koolaid. 'Specially if it's "given" to us by "them".

Never you mind that "African Americans" gave us Bebe's Kids and BET big bootied Bitches and Hoes shaking their Rumpshakers while ghetto princes in Chrysler 300's ("it looks like a Bentley!" No it don't.) made "it rain" to the beat of "Bitch Betta Have My Money". What matters is that unless an "African American" puts up a fuss 'cause Princess Sho No No or whatever the fuck her name is aint "dark" enough or she lives in Nawlins where the "African American experience" was so awful or... Blah de blah... Ad in finitum.

Listen you braid wearin', Malcolm X watchin', T-Pain listening fraud of a bunch of "I really want a White girl" bitter Negroes, a Black princess is a fantasy character! Just like most White girls don't live in Barbie Utopia off Pacific Coast Highway with her dreamhouse and virginity intact, aint no way to do a fantasy black princess if you're going to insist that she be a Buckwheat colored, nappy headed, oppressed pickanniny livin' one step off of Oppression Lane. Nobody wants to sit through two whole seasons of Lil Kim on Dancing With The Stars. And nobody wants to sit through 90 minutes of "Precious, Pregnant Teen", The Animated tales.

It's Disney you stupid fucks. Stop bitching. Buy some damn popcorn. Listen to the latest Vanessa Williams treacle and shut the fuck up.

If you are so intent on bitching because something aint "African American" enough for you, get on a ricketdy ass Air Nigeria plane and ,hopefully if it don't crash, get yo ass back to Africa.

At least then you can be an African and leave us Americans alone.

WIT HAS RETURNED TO TV! OR, EVERYTHING I EVER NEED TO KNOW I LEARNED AT EDGEWOOD HIGH SCHOOL IN WEST COVINA, USA

I attended a high school in a sleepy little Peyton Place of a town, West Covina, California.

As "bedroom suburbs" go, West Covina was pretty average. Located 19 miles and 20 years East of downtown Los Angeles, it was the type of place where good girls didn't but bad girls were everywhere. Camaros were the dream, but, Pintos were the reality. It was the American Dream.

As long as you didn't dream too big.

I dreamt big.

So did my motley crue.

Our little crew of delinquent wannabes weren't bad, well, we weren't evil. We were good bad but not evil. Leaders of our pack. We didn't suit up in leathers and ride motorcycles. We wore Hang Ten and piled into "The Wagon", a babyshit yellow with fake vinyl wood on the sides 1972 AMC Ambassador Wagon. My wagon. Or, if Mike Mcelroy (our local rich boy Jr. Lothario) wasn't dating some Nazarenian hussy we got to pile into his latest new sport coupe. If the stars were lined up perfectly we got to go cruising in Linda Dietrich's 50ft Winnebago which she drove as if it was a Porsche and we were in the 22nd hour of the 24 hours of Daytona.

But I digress.

My point?

I'm now, and have always been, a person of limited talents.

Very.

Limited.

Talents.

I do, however, have one talent that I will hold up against anyone.

I can socialize like a Gabor mating with a Hilton on a souffle of Kardashian steroids.

Really.

I swear.

At dear old Edgewood High School aka My Alma Mater you were either a jock, cheerleader, ASB (associated student body), or a Soc (pronounced "sewsh").

Of course, you could also be in Band, but, really? I'm sure there were Band Geeks.

Yes. I'm sure.

Now, those of us without great talents developed their skills.

Sports? No.

Cheerleading? Not at EHS. That was way too fruity.

ASB? Duh, of course. It was the one place where all levels of society met. And it was all about popularity. Whether you liked me or not I was popular.

Popularity is often judged by how well you are liked. That's some delusional version of the word. Popularity is actually about fear.

I was popular.

I wasn't liked. Well, as long as you were my friend you liked me. After you weren't my friend if you were smart you still understood that I was popular. And therefore you liked me.

Therefore.

Now, did I mention that there was one more place, or shall I say, way, to be popular?

Strangely enough at Mean Girls High, uh, I mean Edgewood, you could also build a power base, uh, make friends, in the Drama and Choir Departments.

Tonite a show premiered called , "GLEE".

It is my life in high school.

As I have to go off for a round of cocktails with my new "grown up" friends you'll have to wait for my review of this FOX TV ode to me till morrow.

Trust me, you'll be glad you waited. In the meantime, go to www.fox.com and watch the premiere episode of GLEE as it will be the beginning of a long relationship, not just with the show, but, with all the Sandys, Jamies, Jimmys, Mikes, Craigs and all the rest of the backbiting, yet, loveable bored suburban youth of a little town 19 miles and 20 years east of downtown Los Angeles, WEST COVINA, USA.

HOUSE OF HATE

I was recently attacked at the Clark County Government Center by the hate filled homophobe of an excuse for a christian, Billy Eckstine McCurdy. He is the "pastor" for the Revival Temple here in Las Vegas.

After calling me a FAGGOT several times , he then said "all the men in his church had been given aids by a FAGGOT!" He then attacked a woman who came to my defense and called her an "abomination" and then screamed "in the name of Jesus, I rebuke thee!"

It was a sad and pathetic display of the most unhinged and hatefilled behavior I had ever witnessed. It happened in front of several witnesses.

I would let this go, however, this psychopath claims to do political consulting work for Mayor Oscar Goodman and was at the Government Center to speak on behalf of a judicial candidate.

I would like to know from both men why they have this "man" working for them. And I would like to know now.

WAS IT REALLY SO BAD FOR ME TO TRY AND DO THE RIGHT THING OR SO SORRY I STEPPED ON YOUR GLORY!

EQUALITY DAYS: ARE WE NOT ALL PART OF "OUR COMMUNITY"?

Recently a historical event happened IN THE LV and the state of Nevada. The very first Equality Days happened in our capitol of Carson City.

A great group of politically and socially active folks from here IN THE LV went up to Carson City to support our own State Senator David Parks in his efforts to get our equal rights written into out very own state constitution.

I could not attend.

I'll tell you why.

One of the bitches about our current healthcare system in this country is that there just plain and simply isn't anything approaching affordable medical coverage. That is bad enough when you're healthy, but, when you have HIV it's not only bad, it keeps you locked in a socioeconomic hell whether you are healthy enough to work or not. Well, I live on $856 per month. I would love to put my skills to work at something, hell, anything. However, because a single bottle of ATRIPLA which from what I understand keeps me alive, costs pretty much my entire monthly income, I can't work until I find someplace that's willing to pay for my healthcare.

I'm not looking for sympathy, I'm stating facts.

As badly as I wanted to go to experience a bit of Nevada LGBT history I just couldn't afford it. I applied for a scholarship to go, however, I felt that there had to be someone else who wanted to go even more than I ,so, I removed myself from consideration.

Many of you don't know that I am known in the non LGBT world as a writer. I write columns monthly for I LOVE LAS VEGAS MAGAZINE where I am the Night Life Editor and the defacto Travel Editor.

I also write proposals for my friends businesses that can't afford them. In addition I write my own blog that has chronicled my adventures since becoming a delegate for Hillary Clinton way back when. I am extremely proud of my blog, DEREKS BIG FAT DEMOCRATIC ADVENTURE. My blog is my platform to inform the world about what's going on in my life and the LGBT world around me.

I am proud of it and had hoped to use my blog to tell the stories of the great group of people who made the journey to Carson City to represent the LGBT community of Nevada.

A community that I thought I was a part of.

Hmph.

Evidently not.

I was told by my dad (who died recently) that if a person was upset enough with you to demand an apology, you must offer a sincere one and try to not repeat whatever the behavior was that caused the other person to be upset.

Cut flash forward.

I sent a rather congratulatory email out to as many members of "OUR" community as I could think of that had made the trip to Carson City asking if they would be so kind as to send me there recollections and pictures from the trip.

WELL.

You would have thought it was me and not a Dingo that ate the baby for the reaction I got.

I was informed by a leader of our community that I had overstepped my place and gone ROGUE by not asking first of the powers that be before I had the temerity to push send.

I was told that I had no right to ask these questions as I had not served on the Equality Days Planning committee nor had I attended AND FURTHERMORE, HOW DARE I USE THE WORDS "OUR COMMUNITY"?!? Even worse I had asked about "OUR EQUALITY DAYS". It seems since I wasn't a part of Equality Days, I had no right to think of myself as being part of the community.

I offered an explanation and a very sincere apology to "Our Dear Leader" and immediately sent out an email letting people know that they could (please!) disregard my email and that an email would come from the members of the planning committee forthwith.

I thought that was the end of it.

Silly.

Me.

An email then went out along with nasty text messages that called me out by name with the following:

And I'm too much of a gentleman to call the person who sent these things out by name.

Too bad she isn't.

A gentleman, that is.

THIS IS THE EMAIL WITHOUT THE OFFENDING (SIVE?) PERSONS NAME ATTACHED:

To the Equality Days participants,



Please disregard the email survey sent out by Derek Washington. He is not involved with the planning or in any way a participant in Equality Days.



We will be sending out an official Equality Days survey to you from www.surveymonkey.com Our survey is to collect your ideas, suggestions and comments in order to improve the event for the future.



I apologize for any inconvenience or confusion. It is Stand OUT For Equality’s desire to connect to our participants in an honest and open fashion for the benefit of the LGBT statewide community. Our desire is to improve this event and to prepare for the continued quest for equality.



Thank you,

Was it really important to call me out by name and imply that I was doing something dishonest? Btw, the parts that mentioned me were "bold" and underlined as if to insure that no one would gather I was anything less than a monster and dishonest to boot.

Listen and listen good.

I spent two years begging GOD to kill me because I couldn't take another day of being so weak that I had to sleep on my moms couch because I was too weak to climb the stairs to my room.

Or being in Hospitals where the high point of my day was waiting for the Jello to arrive at 3pm.

Or how about when I would wake up and my mom would be sleeping next to me with tears running down her eyes? Tears she only cried when she thought I was asleep because she didn't want me to know how bad my having HIV was affecting her.

Listen, when I got well enough the first thing I did was march myself off to Reno for the Democratic convention where I told everyone who and what I was and I GOT ELECTED as a delegate to go to Denver to represent this state. AS A MAN. AS A BLACK MAN. AS A GAY MAN. AS AN AMERICAN MAN. AS A GAY BLACK AMERICAN MAN.

As a member of this community.

Since I returned from Denver, my entire life has been to serve this community.

I have held clothing drives where I went downtown and by myself handed out donated clothes and food.

I took pictures and live blogged from our Equal Rights Rally THAT I HELPED PLAN. When Wanda Sykes came out at our little rally, my laptop was up and running and sending out the news AS IT HAPPENED. "OUR" rally made the news that night. All over the world.

I have worked tirelessly for Democratic candidates to ensure that "OUR" community had representatives who would fight for "OUR" rights.

Just two weeks ago I helped host Congresswoman Dina Titus in my role as the LGBT OUTREACH DIRECTOR of the DEMOCRATIC BLACK CAUCUS.

I'm not listing what I've done for glory. I have NEVER asked for any sort of recognition.

I don't need it.

Unlike some.

So, now I'm being shunned and serving some sort of exile and am the butt of nasty jokes and innuendo.

Why?

Because someone felt their personal fiefdom was threatened.

Whatever.

I know why I help "OUR" community. I help because at my lowest, GOD didn't kill me and a whole lot of people helped and gave me and my mom love and support.

I am trying to get the Nevada Care Program refunded because I never want an innocent kid to beg GOD to kill them or for their mom to fall asleep crying.

I have to ask these self appointed guardians of "OUR" community why do they help?

Is it because of the glory that they hope to receive for what to be works that should be done from the heart?

I know without a doubt that my exile will only get worse after this is read.

I don't care.

I will not allow anyone to question my motives or integrity without answering them.

My mom said that she didn't want me to do that.

I will suffer through whatever you have. Even if you won't sit next to me at recess.

Do you really think you can do anything to me that's worse than seeing my mom cry?