That is so gay

I had work published today. I opened up my copy of mX on the train, turned to page 12 and saw my letter to the editor (more an SMS to the editor, really) printed in their Vent your spleen section. The only problem is that it was edited and now doesn't say what I wanted it to say.
I wanted it to say "Kids, if you don't like something, don't say it's gay. Your brother might be gay. Or the person next to you too." I realise that what I wrote isn't terribly grammatically correct, nor totally unambiguous, but it was late and I was half asleep on a train when I wrote it. On Monday afternoon there were two teenage girls on the train, chatting loudly as teenagers are want to do, talking about various different subjects. Each subject included something gay. That movie was so gay--Have you heard their latest album? It was crap, really gay--You know that guy? He's so gay. I hate the way people use the word gay as an adjective meaning sub-standard. I was sitting there getting annoyed when I read the vent your spleen section in the mX and decided to send a message off. I figured, while I was at it, I may as well alert people to the fact that they never know if a gay or lesbian person will hear their conversation and take offence. I wrote it all out on my phone and then added in the "your brother might be gay" bit, considering Sister appears to be totally clueless to her own brother's gayness.

Unfortunately the editing has made it sound like I was saying that "maybe your brother could be sitting next to you" on the train while you're blithely homophobing all over the place. Even so, hopefully the people who read it are clever enough to figure it out.

Random ramblings #15

I bought a Non Sequitur calendar while impulse-shopping in the post-christmas sales. It's one of those day-to-a-page ones that has (unsurprisingly) a comic for each day of the week. Here's some of the good ones I've been saving and meaning to upload ...

There's another really good one that I can't find, so once I find it i'll add it.

Particular people ...

Yesterday, I ate lunch with some people I met on orientation. They were all between the ages of 17 and 19. I felt so old. One girl was even a little pretentious. They were all lovely people, don't get me wrong, but I was a little uncomfortable around them. They were discussing books they'd read over the holidays after their HSC. The list included The Marquis de Sadde, Plato, Gabriel García Márquez. I admit I was a little intimidated.

My day started at 7. I caught the (late) 8 o'clock train and headed cityward for the Arts Program mentoring day. I met my mentor without too much confusion in the quadrangle, after peering intently at all the girls' name tags along the way in search of her. I always feel uncomfortable staring at girls' chests to read their name tag--I feel like a lecherous pervert ogling their tits in my search for someone specific. We headed down to a building on the other side of campus for small group discussion. No mentoring program is complete without small groups. Our small group consisted of three (female) third year mentors and a small gaggle of first years. I forget exact numbers but I suspect it was in the order of four guys and six girls. Of the four boys, one was cute, one was a little odd, one was handsome in a clean-cut way and the other was me.

The mentors thankfully forwent the suggested ice-breakers; instead we did the whole "Hi, I'm Dan, I'm 23" thing. Such a variety of people. All of them lovely, to be sure, but a variety nonetheless. We all went to a "Yay you got in! Welcome!" lecture-style thing before morning tea.

During morning tea I went to get my timetable. It was a little lopsided: on Tuesday I had a 9-3 day, Wednesday was 1-2 and Thursday 2-3. I wandered with Mentor down to the place where changes are made. The line extended to just outside the door. It was sprinkling rain by this point. Right--I thought--. Fuck this for a joke. I meandered down the crowded corridor, Mentor in tow, to the doorway from whence the line sprang. A "semi-cute" blond boy was waiting at the head of the queue, printed timetable in hand. Excuse me mate--I said--. Do you mind if I push in here? It's just with my leg I can't really wait around. I describe him as "semi-cute" because he was scowling the whole time. He gave me a flicker of a smile and nodded assent. His eyes were dark blue. Thanks so much--I said, relieved and took my place in line. No less than a few seconds later I was inside the computer room telling the guy what I wanted done. He didn't have enough security clearance to change my timetable (go figure ... security clearance for a timetable) so I had to go to a second little door and have someone else do it. Finally it was done, just as the scheduled morning tea time ended and the heavens opened, bucketing cold water upon us as we huddled beneath Mentor's tiny umbrella.

Next on the agenda was the photographic scavenger hunt: we were given five more-or-less cryptic clues to landmarks around campus, which we had to find and have our photo taken with them in the background using a disposable camera. The campus was lousy with small groups of people, lead by white-shirt-clad mentors, sporting all manner of mascots. A neighbouring group's mascot was a bright yellow stuffed snake; another's was a hot pink sombrero. Ours was the abovementioned tiny, navy coloured umbrella.

And so ends this tale of my day, in the food hall, eating lunch and being slowly intimidated by a bunch of kids five years younger than me.

I certainly met a lot of interesting people.

Unnatural

During a blackout today Sister and I got out Trivial Pursuit. Sister asked me a question--Which fictional character was made an honorary member of such-and-such football club (I forget which one) because he wears a school scarf with their club colours?--I had an inkling it would be Harry Potter. I was right. Yay me.

That's crap--I said--. In every society or club I've ever been in, their constitutions have said a member must be an organisation or "natural person".

"Natural person" just means the person is a real, live person. Not someone who had died; not fictitious etc.

So homosexuals can't be members--Mum asked--.

This does not bode well.

Happy birthday Luke

Today is my godson Luke's 5th birthday. I called him earlier to wish him a happy birthday and it served as a reminder why I love kids, especially him, so much.

His mum answered the phone and put him on. He didn't leave me time to say happy birthday before launching into an explanation of what his sister got him--She got me this transformer and it's half dinosaur and half transformer and um half transformer and half dinosaur and it does this and it goes and it needs batteries so Daddy got some for me and there's another one that doesn't need batteries and ...--. Notice the lack of punctuation in that sentence? That's because he said the whole thing on one breath. I suspect he had the transformer in question in his hands while he was talking because he kept referring saying things like see it does this etc.

I asked him--Did you go to school today?--Yes--Do you like school?--short silence--What do you like best about school?--Lunch time when you can do whatever you want to do and you don't have to be in the classroom and not do naughty things--. I resisted the urge to ask if he is in the habit of doing naughty things.

What are you doing today?--Right now?--Yes--I've been painting today--. There was a clunk as I heard him run off and yell out Mummy guess what Daniel's painting right now Mummy guess what Daddy guess what Daniel's painting. He came back--What colour are you using?--Blue and grey; I'm painting a dolphin--Oh cool--. Another clunk. After a brief silence I heard his father say Luke, you can't play on the computer chair when you're on the phone! You end up dropping the phone when you do! Luke came back on the line--I'm going now so I'll give the phone to Daddy--silence--.

That was my first real phone conversation with him. He's so painfully shy that all previous attempts were little more than me talking and him nodding mutely on the other end.

Although he will never read this, I'll say it anyway: Happy Birthday Luke, I love you.

With my spear and magic helmet!

It's been too long since I posted last (not counting, of course, the one from a few hours ago). It's funny but I tend to do that a lot. Saying "it's been ages since ..." when I have just completed something, I mean. What I really mean is that before that instance, I haven't done it for ages. So anyway here I am. I don't really have a concrete reason for not posting in so long beyond being busy and tired. Yet I have nothing to show for it really.

So anyway, here I am. Getting ready for uni the way a studious young man does--watching Bugs Bunny cartoons that he downloaded from the net. I've downloaded four so far: What's Opera Doc, The Rabbit of Seville, Ali Baba Bunny and Beanstalk Bunny. The first two are my all time favourites. When I was younger they seemed longer, but they are each all of six or seven minutes.

What's Opera Doc is the one where Elmer Fudd is a viking in an opera and he wants to kill the wabbit with his spear and magic helmet. Meanwhile, Bugs dresses as Brunhilda, the viking beauty, and woos Elmer, who eventually kills him and then cries over having killed his beloved Brunhilda. The Rabbit of Seville is arguably the most famous, where Bugs is running from Elmer and ends up on the stage of an opera house and poses as the Barber of Seville. He gives Elmer a cut, shave and cement face wrap before proposing to him (which Elmer accepted, changing quickly into a wedding gown). Bugs takes his "bride" to the top floor of an apartment building and drops him over the threshold (the building was a set in the opera house) down countless flights into a cake, conveniently in the right position.

It just occurred to me, recounting these plots, how much cross-dressing went on in these cartoons. Considering they were made in 1950s, the idea that Elmer and Bugs could get together in the two marriage scenes described above was obviously totally alien to the writers, hence the cross-dressing to ensure that one was a bride and the other a groom. With all my lobbying and letter writing, I can't even watch a simple cartoon without politicising it. So sad really.

Evading the big questions

I received a reply to my letter to Kerry Bartlett today.

Tuesday, 20 February, 2007

Dear Dan,

Thankyou for your letters of 10 February 2007 and 23 November 2006. In answer to your question as to what the government is doing to address measures regarding taxation, superannuation and pensions, I would direct you to the website of the Same-Sex:Same Entitlements Inquriy. In particularly the Background Briefing page, a copy of which I have enclosed.

You are correct that the second HREOC discussion paper was released some months ago. The purpose of a discussion paper is that it be in the public domain for some time so that all interested parties can comment on it. The Federal Government will consider finders of the Inquiry when HREOC presents their final report, and decide from there what legislative action to take. It would be presumptive of the Government to act before receiving this report.

Thank you again for your letter and for advising me of your views.

Yours sincerely,

Kerry Bartlett
Federal Member for Macquarie
Chief Government Whip

On the one hand, its vagueness exceeded my expectations; on the other, I'm not surprised. When he said, in his first reply to me, that "the Government is looking to address measures regarding taxation, superannuation and pensions" I was under the impression that he was asserting that they were actuing doing something, not waiting around for the HREOC Inquiry's report (remember that this is the inquiry which Howard forbade government departments to contribute to). So it seems they are in fact, as Bartlett said, looking to address, and not actually doing any addressing at this time.

I wonder why he has chosen not to rebut my rebuttals? It could, of course, be that he is a busy man and doesn't have time to collect evidence against me. It could be that no such evidence exists. It could be a combination of the two.

I was hoping to hear his answers to my points. But then I am young and idealistic.

Heaven

A young man in his first car, a Standard 10, drives down a lazy country road. His hunting and fishing gear are in the boot and beloved is sitting next to him in the passenger seat. Beautiful young women--large-breasted and topless--bring him crystalised ginger to eat. He admires the women but only has eyes for his beloved, who is humming a tune and tatting. The breaze gently tickles their faces and the sunshine warms their skin as the car wends it way along the deserted road. They reach the beach and spend the afternoon picnicking on the sand.

All is right with the world; they are young and content.

Happy Birthday Pop.
19/2/1914 - 3/12/2007

Infinite

Today I felt infinite.

Although, to be honest, I feel slightly less infinite after a rather embarrassing incident this afternoon. I was tidying my room in a sudden and quite unexpected fit of cleanliness. I was facing the corner, trying to de-tangle my phone charger from my MP3 player charger from the CD shelf. I was busily working away, moving things, rearranging CDs, de-tangling cords, arguing with a double adapter--"I could stand here all day..."--"ARGGGGHHH!!!!"

Liz had dropped by, been let in by my father (who called out to me three times), walked into my room, stood behind me, waited, thought to herself "I could stand here all day before he notices me" and started to say "I could stand here all day before you notice me." I nearly shat myself. I made a sound that I would have described as a manly yell, but which I have been assured was in fact a girly shriek.

However despite this slight emasculation, I continue to feel infinite, only slight less so. Which, when you think about it, is still infinitely infinite since infinity minus one is still infinity.

I was bright eyed and bushy tailed (incidentally, I've never understood that phrase) as I caught the train to Sydney this morning. I arrived at Sydney at around 11 and met with my good friend Drew for a coffee. Drew is like the Brian to my inner-Justin. "So what have you decided about mummy and daddy?" he asked me. "I've decided that if Sister gets into this course of hers, and I really think she will, I'll tell them while she's away. That way they'll have two and a half months to get over it and help me with her." The thought is kinda liberating.

I headed into uni and went to the library. I had to look at some textbooks to decide if they were worth the money to buy them. I also had some books that I wanted to borrow. I ventured into the bowels of the stack and looked for the first one on my list -- All American Boy by Scott Peck. I've seen it on The Bookshop's website before and it looked interesting so I decided to give it a read while I still have some spare time. Three books to left was a book whose title suggested it may be helpful in preparing me for the impending "Mum, Dad, I'm gay" moment on the horizon. A cursory glance, however, told me that this was not going to be a helpful book. I took it with me and went in search of a seat. I passed a disabled toilet and felt the sudden urge to urinate, so I ducked inside. I realised this was the perfect place to read so I sat down and started reading.

Sadly, I was right -- it was totally unhelpful. Specifically, it was a right-wing, christian fundamentalist, ex-gay-ministry-toting book. The word unimpressed isn't strong enough to describe how I felt. Steam slowly leaked from my ears as I read the term gay lifestyle being bandied around a little too freely for my liking. I flipped through the various chapters until I found a list of addresses on the last page. All the usual suspects were there. I sat for a while and thought about the whole situation. I'm not talking about how I was sitting on a toilet, having a slash and reading a book; I'm talking about the damage these people cause to vulnerable gay men and women. I felt I couldn't, in good conscience, leave the book for some poor, lonely, confused soul to find. I toyed, briefly, with the idea of ripping the book in half and flushing it. Reality set in and I realised that it clearly wouldn't flush down the toilet and would be discovered. As I considered my options, I ripped out the last page -- the one with the contact information -- and tore it into small pieces and put them in the bin for tampons and pads. After some more thought, I decided that maybe it is a good idea to keep it in the library so that those doing research on the damaging effects of this shit can have access to it. But I didn't want it to fall into the hands of the aforementioned poor souls and cause any damage itself. So I got out my pen and wrote inside the front cover. "I am gay. If you are reading this, and are confused about your sexuality, you are not alone and you are not abnormal. Don't fall for the ex-gay promises. The whole thing is a sham." I triumphantly finished with a full-stop and closed the book with a flourish. I then realised that I was still in the disabled toilet in the library defacing university property.

I flushed the toilet, washed my hands and sheathed my pen. I picked up the offending book and wandered nonchalantly out of the toilet. I took the lift to the next floor and buried it amid an ancient horticultural journal. It too was liberating.

The next stop on was becoming an increasingly epic journey was the bookshop. I walked to the bookshop (inconveniently located on the opposite end of campus). En route I stopped in at the union to get a locker (again, the office that deals with lockers is located in the most inconvenient of the three union buildings). I was told that the lockers in the building I wanted were not being let out yet as they had only been installed and keys hadn't been sorted. On I continued, across what can only be described as an acreage of steps, to the bookshop. I purchased the textbooks I needed and loaded up my bag. Few times have I felt like such a pack-mule as I did this afternoon. I lumbered off towards the highway.

I (finally) got to Central. I sat down in the train. I could smell my feet. They smelt a sickening shade of chartreuse. I decided that if this terrifying trend of foot odour didn't end soon I would have to resort to amputation. I fear that the man who sat next to me between Strathfield and Parramatta got up and left because of the smell (for the non-Sydneysiders, that is all of five minutes and there are no stops between).

I was tired, I had drank far too many caffeinated beverages (even by my formidable standards), I had taken pain killers for my legs; I felt infinite. I was so excited by the prospect of getting on with life. After a decidedly uphill battle to finish the HSC I was so sick of studying by the end of high school that the mere glimpse of the simple prospect of university study made me nauseous. But here I am, four years later, going to uni.

On the way through Croydon I felt a stab of sadness as I remembered that it will be Pop's birthday on Monday. Slowly I realised how proud he'd be of me, for coming this far. When we were in hospital he introduced me to one of the nurses, "This is my grandson, Daniel, he's the university student".

I'm finally at uni. I'm ready and rearing to go. My Pop would be proud of me. I'm proudly gay. Admittedly, I'm not out and proud, but I'm working towards it. The thought of telling my parents doesn't fill me with dread (even if Sister is another story).

I felt free. I felt infinite.

The only place to find freedom ...

... is in the dictionary, under F.

I read an article in November, Abbott wont end gay discrimination, in which some rather ill-thought out comments in relation to homosexual couples were quoted from the federal health minister, Tony Abbott. One line struck me as being particularly absurd:

"I'm just going to say I'm all in favour of human rights, I'm much less in favour of 'group rights'" (emphasis added).

The whole thing made me so mad that I sat down and wrote a letter to the honourable (and I do use the term loosely) Mr Abbott. This is what I wrote:

10th November, 2006

The Hon T Abbot, MP
PO Box 6022
House of Representatives
Parliament House
Canberra ACT 2600

Re: Continued discrimination against homosexual Australians

Dear Mr Abbott,

I refer you to the attached article, 'Abbott won't end gay discrimination', published 3/11/06 in the news section of the website gay.com.

Since accepting my own homosexuality in mid 2005, something I had been denying and struggling with for some ten years, I have been keenly following the issue of discrimination against homosexual Australians. The comment you made that you "are all in favour of human rights" but "much less in favour of 'group rights'" left me dumbfounded and angry. Not only is it hypocritical but it defies logic.

I wish to point out that Australian law and society have many examples of 'group rights'; denying rights to one 'group' when they are freely given to another is illogical.

Section 5(1) of the Marriage Act 1961 (Cwth) grants exclusive rights to a certain 'group' of Australians; it is only one of many Australian laws that grants the right to marry exclusively to heterosexual Australians. Not only does it grant this 'special right' to heterosexual Australians, but it explicitly denies it to homosexual Australians in section 88EA. Many other state and federal laws deny, either explicitly or implicitly, rights to homosexual Australians that are enjoyed by their heterosexual brothers and sisters. The areas of taxation, superannuation, inheritance, adoption, and family law still remain areas of inequity.

It could be argued that the above example is invalid because the group in question is comprised of the majority of Australians and is therefore the norm. If it is accepted that the group in the majority is the yardstick to which other (minority) groups are compared and measured, then it could be rightly argued that minorities should conform themselves to the norm's way of life and not enjoy 'special rights'. This argument too is illogical by virtue of the fact that Australian law and society are full of examples of 'group rights' which are applied to benefit minority groups:

• Australian churches receive many tax exemptions that are not available to other Australian businesses or citizens, for example under the Income Tax Assessment Act 1997 (Cwth) (s.50-5), Fringe Benefit Tax Assessment Act 1986 (Cwth) (s.57), Land Tax Management Act 1956 No 26 (NSW) (s.10(1)(e)), Local Government Act 1993 (NSW) (s.555(1)(e)), and A New Tax System (Goods and Services Tax) Act 1999 (Cwth) (s.38-220). Other philanthropic and charitable organisations receive similar exemptions under these laws.
• The Sex Discrimination Act 1984 (Cwth) (ss.30-47), the Disabilities Discrimination Act 1992 (Cwth) (ss.45-58), and the Age Discrimination Act 2004 (Cwth) (ss.33-47) allow certain employers to be exempt from the anti-discrimination proscriptions of the acts.
• The Australian Road Rules permit disabled Australians to park in special parking spaces (s.203) for an indefinite time (s.206).
• The Disabilities Discrimination Act 1992 (Cwth) (s.9) permits disabled Australians to take assistance dogs into areas that other Australians are not permitted to take their dogs such as shopping centres.
• Australian society provides countless initiatives aimed solely at various minority groups, such as multi-lingual government services and publications for immigrants and Australians of diverse ethnic backgrounds.
  

If we accept the argument that minorities should not expect 'special rights' (such as homosexual relationship recognition), then all 'special rights' that benefit minorities should be removed from Australian law and society: Australian churches, philanthropic organisations, and charities should not receive tax exemptions but should pay the same tax as other Australian businesses; there should be no EEO exemptions; disabled Australians should not receive special parking concessions but should walk the distance from their car nor should they be permitted to take their assistance dogs into shopping centres and areas where animals are restricted but should leave their assistance dogs outside; and Australians of diverse ethnic backgrounds should not receive multi-lingual services but should be expected to communicate in English, the official language of Australia.

Clearly, the above argument is flawed. I totally support the abovementioned 'special rights' that benefit various minority groups -- I myself am disabled -- however I am at a loss to understand why recognition of homosexual relationships is deemed a 'special right' when legal provisions that benefit other minority groups are not. It is totally illogical.

Perhaps the answer is that the religious convictions of the majority prohibit homosexuality. Religious convictions should be moot when it comes to public policy as Australia has no official religion; it is not a Christian country. If it were, we would have an established Australian church. I am Catholic, yet I do not intend to tell my fellow Australians what to believe or think, so I am offended that their religious convictions regarding homosexuality prevent me from receiving what is given to others. Furthermore, I resent that I am forced to lobby the government for a right given freely to others. Interestingly, the United Kingdom, a country that does have an established Christian church, allows civil unions for their homosexual citizens.

When examined outside of the rubrics of the cultural majority and religion, the argument for marriage and relationship equality becomes a logical one. It has been demonstrated that 'special rights' are given to various other Australian minority groups, so why not to homosexual Australians?

Having explained these facts, I would assert that if you are truly not in favour of 'group rights', then you are not in favour of marriage or relationship recognition of any kind in its present form: one that gives 'special rights' to one group and not another. I would further assert that by not supporting 'special rights' you in fact support total relationship equality for all Australians, regardless of their sexuality, for once 'special rights' are removed from the equation, a right is a right and should be available to every Australian.

I am interested to hear your thoughts on this issue of 'group rights' as it pertains to homosexual Australians' relationship rights, given the facts presented in this letter.

Thankyou for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Yours sincerely,
Dan

CC: Mr Kerry Bartlett, MP, member for Macquarie; Gay and Lesbian Rights Lobby (NSW).

I sent a copy to my local federal member, Mr Kerry Bartlett, with a cover letter inviting him to comment. This is the reply I received from Bartlett

15/11/06

Dear Dan,

Thankyou for your letter and copy of correspondence you forwarded to Mr Abbott.

The Australian Government condemns discrimination in all its forms, including discrimination on the basis of sexuality. It believes that each of us should have the opportunity to participate in the life of our community and to experience the benefits and accept the responsibilities that flow from such participation without fear of discrimination. The Government is committed to maintaining that Australian traditions of tolerance and respect for diversity, which are the foundations of one of the world's most successful and harmonious societies.

However, the Government is also strongly of the view that the traditional definition of marriage between a man and a woman for life should remain. This is not to say that same sex relationships are not as valuable to those involved but they are different. Having said that, the Government is looking to address measures regarding taxation, superannuation and pensions.

Thank you again for your letter and I have noted your personal views.

Yours sincerely,

Kerry Bartlett, MP
Federal member for Macquarie.

This reply only made me even more mad. I have always admired Bartlett (although this has a lot to do with the so-so calibre of the labour candidates). I wrote a reply and sent it off...

23rd November, 2006

Mr K Bartlett, MP
PO Box 376
Springwood NSW 2777

Re: Continued discrimination against homosexual Australians

Dear Mr Bartlett,

Thank you for your prompt reply (dated 15/11/06) to my letter (dated 10/11/06) regarding same-sex relationship equality. I would like to take this opportunity to rebut a few points.

I was disappointed that you cited the government's party line that "the Australian government condemns discrimination in all its forms", when in reality it actively discriminates against its citizens. I base this assessment on findings by the Human Rights and Equal Opportunities Commission's Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Inquiry, an inquiry to which John Howard instructed the federal government not to make submissions (see attached article Howard accused of failing gay community, 28/6/06 and media release, dated 28/9/06). The Commission has published a preliminary list of 68 federal Acts in which discrimination against homosexual Australians occurs.

I was similarly disappointed by your citing another party line regarding "Australia's traditions of tolerance and respect for diversity". While it is true that diversity has always existed in Australian society, tolerance and respect for that diversity have not. The government appears to have a very short memory. Until the mid 1970s the White Australia policy required immigrants to assimilate to Australian norms; this was neither tolerant nor respectful of diversity. The criminalisation of homosexual acts, a practice which continued until the mid 1970s in most states and until 1983 in Tasmania, was neither tolerant nor respectful of diversity. This intolerance and disrespect for diversity has continued into modern times; the Cronulla race riots are a very recent example. The "traditions of tolerance and respect for diversity" to which you allude are, paradoxically, both true and false at the same time. They are false in the sense that these traditions never existed, at least not in the sense that the current government would have its voters believe. They are true, however, because the actual traditions of intolerance and disrespect for diversity have always existed, and continue to exist, in Australian society.

I found your final paragraph condescending and insulting: "The government is also strongly of the view that the traditional definition of marriage between a man and a woman for life should remain. This is not to say that same sex relationships are not as valuable to those involved but they are different. Having said this, the government is looking to address measures regarding taxation, superannuation and pensions" (emphasis added). The fact that you used the words "to those involved" tells me that these relationships are not as valuable in the eyes of the government, nor yours. I would not dare rebuke you for your own personal opinions on the subject--they are your opinions and none of my business--however as an Australian citizen and voter I have the right to rebuke the government for its obviously discriminatory views.

The government's view of marriage as being exclusively "between a man and a woman for life" lacks substance by virtue of the very existence of divorce laws. Allowing divorces negates this "traditional definition" as it provides a way out of what is, by definition, a life-long contract.

Saying that homosexual relationships are "different" is a gross oversimplification of a very complex phenomenon. I agree that homosexual relationships are different insofar as all relationships are different. Each relationship, whether heterosexual or homosexual, married or de facto, is different. I strongly disagree with the implication that being "different" is negative or means being unworthy of equality. My grandparents' 64 year marriage relationship is different from my cousin's three year de facto relationship with her boyfriend, which in turn is different to that of Justice Michael Kirby and his partner, who have been living in a homosexual de facto relationship for 38 years. Each of these is different, yet all three are very similar as they are all loving, committed, voluntary and for life. Despite this, only two are legally protected. Even more absurd is the fact that a three-year heterosexual de facto relationship is legally protected while a 38-year homosexual de facto relationship (which is virtually the identical except for the fact that one consists of a man and a woman and the other two men) receives very little legal protection.

I read and watch the news daily and am a member of many gay and lesbian news lists; I have seen no evidence of the government "looking to address measures" of discrimination in any area of law. On the contrary, I have only seen opposition to progress and law reform. Phillip Ruddock's veto of the Civil Unions Act 2006 (ACT) belies Mr Howard's and Mr Ruddock's homophobia. The fact that debate over the Greens bill to close loopholes in the Anti-Discrimination Act has been gagged (see attached media release, dated 15/11/06) by both sides of government indicates a refusal to even discuss reform. It has been nearly two months since HREOC released its second discussion paper in connection with the Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Inquiry.

Mr Bartlett, I would like to know how, precisely, the government is "looking to address measures regarding taxation, superannuation and pensions". What is being done? Which acts are being examined? What changes have been made? What changes are being proposed?

In conclusion, the government's arguments and opinions on this subject are contradictory and flawed. Either marriage is for life, without provision for divorce or any alternative such as recognition of de facto relationships, or it is not necessarily for life because divorce is available and de facto relationships are recognised; either the government is discriminatory in its treatment of Australian homosexual couples by refusing equal rights, or it is not discriminatory and grants the same rights for all couples. The government can not have it both ways.

Thankyou for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Yours sincerely,
Dan

CC: Gay and Lesbian Rights Lobby (NSW).
Enclosed:

• Article: Howard accused of failing gay community, 28/6/06
• Media release: HREOC Same-Sex: Same Entitlements Inquiry, 28/9/06
• Media release: Debate gagged on Greens' bill … 15/11/06

As of today, I haven't received a reply. Perhaps Bartlett doesn't want to engage in a debate with me? Perhaps he knows he won't win? Whatever the reason, I have written a follow-up letter:

10th February, 2007

Mr K Bartlett, MP
PO Box 376
Springwood NSW 2777

Re: Continued discrimination against homosexual Australians

Dear Mr Bartlett,

Thank you for your prompt reply (dated 15/11/06) to my letter (dated 10/11/06) regarding same-sex relationship equality. I have sent you a reply (dated 23/11/06) however I have not received a reply nor a receipt from your office. I have included that letter in case the original one was mislaid at your office or lost in the mail.

If you did receive it, and have chosen not to engage in a debate with me, I do understand and respect your decision. However, I would appreciate it if you would expand on your assertion that the government is "looking to address measures regarding taxation, superannuation and pensions". What is being done? Which acts are being examined? What changes have been made? What changes are being proposed?

The truth is, Mr Bartlett, that I see no evidence of these measures; on the contrary I only see the government's homophobia in the news. I have enclosed four articles for your information that belie the government's attitude. The first demonstrates the homophobic move to deny foreign adoptions to same sex couples; the second, third and fourth demonstrate the flimsy excuses used to reject the ACT's second attempt at same sex union legislation.

Election time is upon us, Mr Bartlett, both state and federal. I suspect that the queer community and their heterosexual allies are much larger than the incumbent government thinks. This issue, among many other legal disparities between gay and straight Australians is likely to be an issue at the front of many gay voters' minds.

Thankyou for your time, and I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Yours sincerely,
Dan
CC: Gay and Lesbian Rights Lobby (NSW); Community Action Against Homophobia (Sydney); Community Action Against Homophobia (Blue Mountains)
Enclosed:

• Article: No recognition of gay couples' foreign adoptions, 2/2/07, The Age.
• Article: ACT gay marriage plan rejected again, 6/2/07, The Age.
• Article: Concern for minors in ACT gay union plan, 7/2/07, The Age.
• Article: Ruddock blocks gay union plan, 7/02/07, The Age.

We'll see what happens now. If Bartlett is smart he'll write me a killer letter, detailing these steps that are being taken. He should have a list of legislation somewhere that he can use. If do hope, for his sake, that he didn't make that assertion just to shut me up.

He should know that I'm not going anywhere by now.

When two worlds collide ...

... who will be left alive?

I think that everyone, to some extent, lives in several different worlds. There's the family world, work world, school world, friends world. Life is like one giant venn diagram at times. Sometimes these worlds co-exist peacefully; sometimes there is a tangible tension between them. Right now I'm living in the gay world and the not (as) gay world; the former is growing while the latter shrinks. Recent events have, however, reminded me that each is alive and kicking, and on a collision course.

Last year I enjoyed some amount of separation between the two worlds: while at uni I could be as gay as I wanted (read: I could be myself) and while at home I could handle the hiding because I had a safe outlet. This year I'm heading to a different uni, one where Sister has many friends who know me. This means that I suddenly feel I can't be myself there. What if, for example, I am hanging out under a rainbow flag on pride week and I am seen by one of her uber-Catholic mates? Would they say to her "I didn't know your brother was gay"?

Irrational? Perhaps. Ego-centric? Definitely. Petrifying? Totally.

To complicate things further, Sister has applied to go to a three month residential course which starts in March. This means that, if accepted, I'll either have to tell her in the next three weeks or wait three months (or, do nothing at all). If I leave it there's more danger of being outed. If I do it now...well I don't want to do it now. I do want it over with but I'm really in no mood for the repercussions at this juncture. I could leave her until she gets back and deal with my parents while she's away, giving them ample time to "get over it" and help me with her.

I admit I got very worked up at the prospect of possibly having my hand forced but on mature consideration I've come to realise the chances of getting outed are actually fairly slim. But even so. If she doesn't get into this course then she will be attending my campus one day a week to take a unit of study at my uni. This will mean the inevitable "where are you going?--to the library (but really to some gay group thing)" scenario.

Uni is supposed to be fun and carefree.

These days I wish I was six again ...

... make me red cape; I want to be superman.

Yesterday's post was a little more depressing that I had originally envisaged. Here are some happier memories that I have remembered since last night. I didn't have a very happy existance in my early high school days

Eighth grade. Library. English class.
We were all sitting in the annexe of the library reading silently. The teacher, a man who resembled Peter Coombes with startling clarity, sat at the front. I was reading a book which wasn't in and of itself funny. The main character of the book, a fifteen year old girl, was invited to the house of the hottest boy in school. He was rich and they had a large house with a large garden, complete with tennis courts. It was dusk and he suggested they go to the tennis courts to play some tennis with his parents. She had never played but thought "how hard can it be" and agreed. She was standing there, in the twilight, raquet poised for action, when suddenly something came flying at her from the darkness. Assuming it was a tennis ball, she swung the raquet at the object. It wasn't a ball. It was in fact a fruit bat, which now hung limp and lifeless from her raquet. The girl hid the raquet behind her back and tried to shake the stunned fruitbat off. It clung fast. She was mortified. The hot boy and his parents were haughty and pretentious; this was not the propper way to play tennis. She wanted to die from embarasment.

I snorted. The silence of the room was oppressive after my sharp outburst. I laughed silently, both at the story and the resonance of the snort. A short peal of laughter escaped my lips, clenched tightly closed immediately after to prevent further embarasment. I was turning an alarming shade of crimson as I tried to quell the laughter that was building up inside me so I covered my face with the book. The room was filling with the murmurs of the other kids; I could feel the teacher's stare on my forehead--the only part of my head exposed to the light of day. I was quivering in my seat from unrequited laughter. It wanted to get out. Some minutes passed with me quivering from laughter, crimson-faced, behind the book and my classmates whispering to one another: "what's wrong?", "is he ok?". One friend thought I was crying. My eyes were watering. I let out another short laugh which could be legitimately mistaken for a cry. I got up, gasped "sorry" in the general direction of the teacher, and ran from the room. My concerned friend followed. When I got out of the library I let loose and burst out laughing. My friend didn't know what to think. After the laughter subsided and I wiped my eyes dry I returned to the annexe with my proverbial tail between my legs. After class I tried to explain the situation to my annoyed teacher. "I'm really sorry about that sir," I said, "you see I'm reading this book and the main character was at a guy's house playing tennis and ..." I could get no more out as the laughter started again. He seemed to understand.

Eighth grade. Quadrangle. PE class.
My friend and I were arguing. It was a fun kind of argument; I don't remember what it was about but it was the kind where we were both laughing the whole time. The argument reached a crecendo of "fine then!", "fine then!", "well I'm going!", "good! see if I care!" I turned to sweep away magestically and landed flat on my face on the cement. My friend had sneakilly taken a half-step forward and put her toes on mine so that when I went to turn and sweep away it turned into more of a swooping motion. I lay on the ground, winded, laughing uncontrollably. Being winded, no sound came out. Everyone around, including my friend, thought I was terribly injured. I could hear their concerned voices around me as I fought for my voice.

I remembered you on trains ...

... so now you're on every train I hear.

It's amazing how places, smells, tastes can bring memories jolting back to your mind in 3D surround sound technicolour. Some fill me with a childlike nostalgia; others fill me with an adolescent dread. Here are some memories from the most recent mental stock-take, more or less in chronological order. They weren't necessarily life-changing; they are just what I have been thinking about this week while reflecting on my 23 years. They do shed some interesting light on some elements of my personality and/or self.

I remember being passed over the threshold of my grandmother's house, in the middle of the night, into Grandma's waiting arms. I was half-asleep and the house was dark. I was two and a half; it was the night my sister was born.

I hated preschool. I never wanted to go and cried every time mum dropped me off. My locker symbol was an orange, cut in half. There was a long slippery-dip that ran down a hill that I liked to play on.

I remember my orientation day at kindergarten. It was 1988 and I was four. Mum and her friend brought me and her daughter, Kellie, together. I cried. I didn't want to be left alone in the classroom, which had vivid green carpet, with all the strangers. The teacher, whose name I still remember, had tightly curled (probably permed) short cropped brown hair. Her skin was wrinkled and she smelt like an old lady. She invited me to join in on the craft project--making Christmas trees--with the other children. I reluctantly agreed. There were green pieces of brenex coloured paper, cut into triangles, strewn across the table. I took the a few green triangles and stuck them to the white cardboard. Then I stuck small red stickers on the points of the tree. I forgot all about my mum.

The elastic in my track-pants snapped one day in kindergarten, sending my pants to the floor without warning. Everyone laughed at me. I was wearing lemon-yellow superman undies. I was taken to the clothing pool for a pair of pants to borrow.

My head-lice shampoo smelt like oranges.

One day, my friends ran in front of a car on the way home. When I got into the house, my friends' mother (who had seen the whole thing) went off at me for not stopping them. I knew it wasn't my fault but was too intimidated to speak. We were all sent outside to play. Some time later, the mother called me back in and apologised for yelling at me, saying that her father had also seen the incident (he was visiting the neighbour at the time) and had returned and told her what had really happened--that the two children were a long way ahead of me and there was nothing I could do. She said "you should stand up for yourself, Daniel, although I admit I didn't give you much of a chance." I said nothing.

I hated my fourth grade teacher. She would always punish the entire class for the sins of one or two kids. She had shoulder length, straight black hair; it looked like a broom-head. I used to muck up a lot in class because I got sick of her disciplinary tactics of keeping the whole class in at lunch because one person spoke. She insisted on total silence in her lessons. My parents were called in for an interview (she sent a note home to them via my sister). When they got home they asked why I was acting up like that. I explained the situation and Mum said to me "Daniel, I understand why you're upset--what she is doing is unfair--but you have to find better ways of dealing with it. You can't just do those things to your teacher, no matter how unfair she is being." I felt relieved that Mum was taking my side.

After an assembly performance item I told the same teacher "that was stupid" to her face. I regret saying that. Although she was a bitch, I felt bad when I saw her face after I said that.

When I was in fourth grade, I thought the year six prefect was cute. The male prefect. There was no shame in it though.

I used to pick on a girl at school who was two years younger than me. One afternoon I was waiting for the bus by the gate after school and her mother came up to me and said "leave my children alone." I had few friends and I tried to make myself feel better by putting her down. I don't remember why I picked on her; she did nothing to me. To my knowledge, my parents never learnt of this incident.

I set the loungeroom carpet on fire, briefly, when I was thirteen. We have a gas heater that must be plugged in for the electronic ignition to spark. I pressed the ignition button but there was no spark so, while holding it down, I reached over and turned on the power point. The heater ignited. Unfortunately, the gas that had been spewing out of the heater this whole time also ignited and set the carpet alight. It wasn't much at all, and I quickly stamped it out, sprayed deodorant around the room to get rid of that burnt acrylic smell and then trimmed the carpet to get rid of the charred top part. I turned on the fan and opened the door. It was the middle of winter and I was freezing. I didn't tell my parents until after I turned eighteen.

They called me a faggot in seventh grade. They were relentless. I didn't understand why. I wasn't gay, you see.

I remember the sickening crunching sound that my Dad's car made when I scraped a brick wall. He was overseas at the time and I needed to use the garage so I decided to back his car out myself. The backing out went without a hitch but the re-entry proved tricky. He was not happy.

Every time I hear the song Old Pictures by Something for Kate, I think of a friend of mine in highschool. I was totally in love with him, although I didn't quite realise it at the time. It's weird looking back on those days; I remember the feelings and the thoughts that swam in my head with the detached knowledge of being gay--something that at the time I didn't acknowledge. The friendship ended badly. Everywhere I went I was reminded of him. The lyrics, particularly "I remember you on trains; so now you're on every train I hear", were the lyrics of my life. I remember the depression and the suicidalness. I remember the tears.

It all changed the first time I held Luke, my godson. He was a week old and I had just turned eighteen. I was depressed because I was sick and confused about my sexuality and could tell no one about it. I was suicidal. I looked down at his sleeping face and felt such a rush of love for him; I knew everything would be OK.

And it was.

Twenty-three

Fourty-six minutes ago I turned 23. I usually waver between total ambivelance and bald-faced hatred when it comes to the aging process but this year I feel kind of excited. Perhaps I'm finally growing up? Actually I can't really describe how I feel right now. It's a mixture of many things.

I'm in a very existentially aware mood, for want of a better description. This is probably due in no small part to watching I heart Huckabees this morning. If you've seen the movie then you'll know why. If you haven't then rent it or something, it's really clever. Very briefly, it's about the fundamental interconectedness of everything, much in the same vain as Douglas Adam's Dirk Gently (of whom I am a huge fan). They're both really quirky and weird and fun; so if you're into weird, quirky, fun movies with complex plots and outlandish characters, give it a watch. And suddenly this has strayed into movie review territory. My bad. Luckilly, this illustrates perfectly that all things are interconnected: I can go from turning 23 to being existentially aware to a movie review in one fluid snake-like movement.

I feel bewildered. Ok so I'm 23. Now what? I'm going to be five years older than most of my cohort at uni this year. That's a weird thought. Everyone has been telling me that this is a good thing: age bringing life experience and maturity and all that. I guess we'll soon see. The strange thing about this all is that I've been a boy for most of my life, not a man. I was taking the dog for a walk one day and a little boy (about 4 or so) and his mother came up to me. "Ask the man if you pat the dog, darling," said the mother. I nearly turned around to see if there was a man with a dog behind me, thinking what a striking coincidence it was and how I could swear she was looking at me and--oh yeh, she was talking about me. And now here I am, enrolled in an institution of higher learning.

I feel excited and liberated. So why so excited this year? The simple answer is that I finally have some kind of direction this time around. I'm starting uni this year; looking forward. I'm not going to be trapped in this place for much longer. Living here, at home, with a politically and religiously conservative sister is so hard sometimes. But I know it won't be long. She might hate me but to be honest I'm starting to get to the point of not caring anymore. It's her issue not mine. That realisation is surprisingly liberating.

Mostly I feel sad. I just realised that this is my first birthday without Pop. He always called me at 7pm--at the most inopportune time, right at the beginning of Home and Away--without fail. He's say "Hello boy! Happy birthday!" I can hear it in my head if I close my eyes. On Saturday it will be two months since he died but it feels like a lifetime has passed since the 3rd of December. I've always wondered what grief feels like and now I know. It's not like I think about him every second of every day and fall to my knees wailing. I mean at the beginning I felt like doing that, deep inside, but the tears never came. Since then I have stopped thinking about him everyday, longing for his company, missing him like crazy. I still do these things, just not on a daily basis. Fuck I miss him.

The night before he died, my dad said to Pop, "Tomorrow will be a better day."
And Pop said, "Yes it will."