Matthew Shepard was beat severely by two young men, tied to a fence, and left to die outside of Laramie Wyoming eleven years ago.
Tonight I heard his mother, Judy Shephard, speak about the meaning of his life and death, and how it has affected gay activism and the fight for gay rights in America.
She told this story:
"The town of Caspar, Wyoming is encourage me and my work of my cause. I have old ladies, grandmothers, stopping me in the aisle of the grocery.
"I'm so suppportive of why you're doing. I have a gay grandchild" they whisper.
I say to say "Thank you very much. But please, don't whisper, say it out loud.""
Monday, September 28, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Game Day
It's game day!
The stadium sits like a colliseum in the middle of the campus. Towering over the surrounding architecture, Roman in nature. It is a temple of athletics.
When I walk through campus at noon, I see the preparations for the game at 6 pm have already begun. Not just parking attendants and orange vested volunteers in charge of crowd control, but the tailgaters have also arrived.
Tailgating is a perverse version of the American family picnic. Named after the tailgate of pickup trucks where these perverted picnics take place, tailgating now has spread beyond the back end of pick-up trucks. As I walk through campus, I see, in the park space available merely fifty yards away from the stadium, event tents covering televisions connected to satellite receivers, coolers filled with ice and beer, barbecques, and a collection of lawn chairs. The families who have arrived six hours early will watch other football games all afternoon, before watching the Texas Longhorn football game that will be played in the stadium across the street.
America continues to reaffirm my assumptions about its culture: An almost religious obsession with football, family activity centered around the television, and the automobile at the center of life.
I speak to a friend as I walk through campus telling him what I see around me. "Football," he says, "is just a way to distract the masses from realizing how shitty their lives and the world around them really is."
Winning is so pure, I think to myself. It is so final. A clear, unadultered positive in a world where nothing is as good or as bad as it seems. And being a fan, tailgating, cheering your team on, is like a ritual, a prayer.
Later that night, at approximately ten p.m., the Longhorns beat Louisiana 59 to 20.
The Gods are benevolent to their Texas fans today.
The stadium sits like a colliseum in the middle of the campus. Towering over the surrounding architecture, Roman in nature. It is a temple of athletics.
When I walk through campus at noon, I see the preparations for the game at 6 pm have already begun. Not just parking attendants and orange vested volunteers in charge of crowd control, but the tailgaters have also arrived.
Tailgating is a perverse version of the American family picnic. Named after the tailgate of pickup trucks where these perverted picnics take place, tailgating now has spread beyond the back end of pick-up trucks. As I walk through campus, I see, in the park space available merely fifty yards away from the stadium, event tents covering televisions connected to satellite receivers, coolers filled with ice and beer, barbecques, and a collection of lawn chairs. The families who have arrived six hours early will watch other football games all afternoon, before watching the Texas Longhorn football game that will be played in the stadium across the street.
America continues to reaffirm my assumptions about its culture: An almost religious obsession with football, family activity centered around the television, and the automobile at the center of life.
I speak to a friend as I walk through campus telling him what I see around me. "Football," he says, "is just a way to distract the masses from realizing how shitty their lives and the world around them really is."
Winning is so pure, I think to myself. It is so final. A clear, unadultered positive in a world where nothing is as good or as bad as it seems. And being a fan, tailgating, cheering your team on, is like a ritual, a prayer.
Later that night, at approximately ten p.m., the Longhorns beat Louisiana 59 to 20.
The Gods are benevolent to their Texas fans today.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Social Security Office
"I'm here fo my So-cal Suh-cur-iddy number," she says.
Class is alive and thriving in America.
Americans, true Americans, upper-middle class white Americans with homes in the suburbs and a car for each member of their household don't come here.
I scan the hundreds of people waiting with their number for their chance to see a social security officer. The white people are outnumbered one hunder to one.
The down and out, the poor, the old, the handicapped, the unemployed, the Black, the Mexican, the Asian, come here. These are the Americans America doesn't want.
As a student from Canada, I feel more foreign here than anywhere I've been since I arrived. The discrimination of class is palpable.
From the outside, I see those on the margins, here, to fight their way out of obscurity, to the heart of the American dream.
There is no security in the social climate of America.
Class is alive and thriving in America.
Americans, true Americans, upper-middle class white Americans with homes in the suburbs and a car for each member of their household don't come here.
I scan the hundreds of people waiting with their number for their chance to see a social security officer. The white people are outnumbered one hunder to one.
The down and out, the poor, the old, the handicapped, the unemployed, the Black, the Mexican, the Asian, come here. These are the Americans America doesn't want.
As a student from Canada, I feel more foreign here than anywhere I've been since I arrived. The discrimination of class is palpable.
From the outside, I see those on the margins, here, to fight their way out of obscurity, to the heart of the American dream.
There is no security in the social climate of America.
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