Too Many LGBTQIA To Change

And by “change” I mean “make louder, make prouder, make less afraid,” and “make stronger.” That’s what they want us to think. The anti- crowd. The either rich, white, country, cis, male, straight, religious or all of the above folks who are against anything that isn’t exactly like them.

Too many, tomahto.
We love a challenge.

Having lived in Florida for ten years, waking up to the news Sunday morning involved more than just that. It involved the horrendous wait to hear back from my friends in Orlando. And the constant prayers that their phones weren’t the ones endlessly ringing inside Pulse. Thankfully, everyone I know has confirmed their safety. But some of them aren’t that lucky. There is one degree of separation between myself and a murder victim, killed for being just like me.

The last time a national tragedy hit so close to home was 9/11, the news of which broke during 10th grade Biology. Born and raised in New York, I vividly remember the line of cars outside my high school, which seemed like it stretched on for miles, and the frantic mothers running from the cars to reach their kids whose fathers (they were still waiting to hear from) were dying in the towers.

One degree of separation.

Now residents of Massachusetts, where we moved from Florida partly so that my husband and I could get married, we managed to avoid the Boston Marathon bombing. Because we’re lucky, I guess? If being lucky means surviving a terrorist attack, then sure. I’m lucky. But if being an American means having a terrorist attack be part of the history of every state you’ve lived in, then hell no, I’m not proud. If you want me to be proud to be an American, you’re going to have to give me less things to be utterly ashamed of, America.

I’ll admit that for the first few days after Orlando, I was terrified to even leave the house. I was adamantly against going to Pride this year, which has been a tradition for me since the age of 17. But one of the things I’m absolutely proud of is my sexuality. It’s a massive part of who I am. So, sure, I’ll do my best to ignore the spot on Earth on which I happened to be born and all the terrible things people born on the same spot have done because I don’t want their actions to be my heritage, but I’ll be damned if I don’t celebrate exactly who the fuck I am. My husband was out of town during Boston pride, but you will be seeing us in NYC on the 26th. With rainbow Hillary buttons galore.

Now, dear reader, I haven’t forgotten what this blog is about. We’re here to talk about TV and talk about TV we will.

Animal Kingdom premiered this week on TNT. They postponed the season premieres of two of their shows because of the homophobic terrorist attack in Orlando, so I was pretty sure Animal Kingdom wasn’t going to trigger anything negative since it was still scheduled to air as normal. The premise can pretty much be summed up as: a bunch of semi-angry shirtless straight men rob people under the supervision of Ellen Barkin. A little convoluted, sure. But who cares? It’s a good time. It is super-machismo and incredibly homoerotic and I am not one to be mad at the sexual objectification of men. So, it was a wild and enjoyable ride. Until…

The star of our show walks into a public bathroom to find one of the semi-angry, always shirtless, super-macho, definitely “straight” men getting happily blown by a male stranger. Realizing he was just caught, his moans of pleasure quickly turn into screams of disgust when he starts beating the stranger, while calling him a thief for stealing his wallet. Some very hard punches and kicks later, they leave the beaten man on the bathroom floor. All we see is the victim’s legs writhing in pain, bathing suit at his ankles.



Come the fuck on, TNT. I cannot wait to find out what was in those other two premieres that couldn’t make it to air after a national tragedy in which gay people were murdered in a bathroom. I seriously want to know who didn’t realize how exactly not okay that shit was to air. I understand plot points and premiere dates and advertising fees and blah blah money blah blah, but that shit should not have made it to air, you insensitive mother fuckers.

So, there. Was that TV talk enough?

Be exactly who you are and be proud as hell of it. Also fuck TNT right in the asshole.

New rule:

It’s really not difficult to keep your name off of the sex offender registry. If you’re on it, it’s because you’re a gross person in one way or another. So, dear writers: quit writing storylines that are supposed to make your audience feel sympathy for a fucking sex offender character you, for whatever reason, thought would be a good addition to your show.