In one of the most irony-filled stories to make the rounds in a long while, a social media specialist in Utah was fired for a blog he wrote about homophones.

For those unfamiliar with the term, homophones are words that sound alike, but which are spelled differently. Think of “sell” and “cell;” “sleigh” and “slay;” “two,” “too” and “to.” Clearly, a homophone has nothing to do with one’s sexuality – a fact that appears to have escaped Clarke Woodger when he fired Tim Torkildson for a blog the latter wrote on the topic.

So where’s the irony, you ask? Well, Woodger just happens to be the owner of Nomen Global Language Center, an English language learning center based in Provo. One might assume that the owner of an institution which charges a fee to students to whom it purports to instill the basics of the English language would actually know the basics of the English language. That’s ironic point #1 (and I’m hoping all you Nomen students saved your receipts).

For ironic point #2, we have the fact that in his you’ll-no-longer-be-working-here announcement to Torkildson, Woodger complained, “Now our school is going to be associated with homosexuality.”

Now I may be wrong about this, but I’m guessing that we’d not be hearing about this story, nor would Newsweek and other major news outlets be reporting about it, if Woodger hadn’t terminated Torkildson.

So congratulations Clarke Woodger of the Nomen Global Language Center. Through both your ignorance and homophobia, you, not Mr. Torkildson, managed to ensure that your school (using the term ever so loosely) will, indeed, forever be associated with homosexuality. Don’t believe it? Just try Google-ing “Nomen Global Language Center.”

Now I’m wondering if someone should attempt to explain dangling participles to Mr. Woodger before he again embarrasses himself in a similarly unfortunate event.

The post Homophones for homophobes first appeared on Lesbian.com.

BY SARA PALMER

If you’ve seen live improv recently, you probably know how the show gets started. The concept is simple enough — the performer asks the audience for a word (real or made up) or phrase, at the top of the show to inspire the performers on stage. What follows is an unrehearsed collaborative creation of imaginative worlds and characters. There are no rules and no wrong answers. Just complete faith that everyone’s ideas, including your own, are brilliant. On stage engaged in such hilarity is where you’ll find me most evenings and where you, the readers, will soon come in.

But before we get into that let me tell you a little bit about myself. I am an improviser/writer/storyteller. Full disclosure — I am also completely terrified of rollercoasters. Now, I know what you’ll say: But what about the thrill, the adrenaline? To that I say, what about the heights? What about my nervousness while standing in line listening to others eagerly proclaiming the ride’s features as if they were toppings on an ice cream sundae? Features that just happen to be each and every one of my fears.

Which brings me to the losing of the lunch — how mortifying? Not to mention, what if my safety bar isn’t working properly? It is usually at this point that I nobly bow out of line, take the belongings of those I’m with and head for the closest bench. Needless to say, I’ve ditched the amusement park scene and instead, I’ve found a different kind of thrill ride. One where I step out on stage, comfortably just a few feet off the ground, not knowing what’s going to be thrown my way, armed with nothing but the knowledge that anything can happen.

So, here’s the deal — I want to create a collaborative storytelling experience by combining my improv background and my storytelling background. The collaborative part is where you come in. What I’m going to need from you all are suggestions. It can be anything — a word or phrase, real or made up, whatever comes to mind. From there, I am going to take a single suggestion and build a story based on my interpretation of that suggestion. At the end of the each story, I will let you know which suggestion was the basis for the story and I’ll solicit input for the next new story.

So, without further ado, may I get a suggestion please? Just leave your ideas in the “Leave a Reply” section below and let the frivolity begin!

Sara Palmer is a an improviser/writer/storyteller based in the Phoenix, Arizona, area.

The post Introducing the interactive improv blog: Your ideas needed first appeared on Lesbian.com.

The Transgender Day of Empowerment is an extraordinary day, one in which we acknowledge the strengths and contributions from a segment of our community that until recently has seen little in the way of recognition. April 26 marks the eleventh year of San Diego’s celebration, as it brings together the LGBT community and its allies. Not long ago, I was neither aware of nor recognized this special day. Now, I understand and I will be celebrating, too.

Here is how it started for me. Back in the 1990s, a relative confided in me that there had been a mistake. I looked into the brown eyes of the teen before me; his hair long, his body tall, thin and gangly; his movements awkward from a recent growth spurt as if he hadn’t gotten used to the length of his arms. I was familiar with his sincere, quiet nature and the seriousness of his voice clued me in to an upcoming shared confidence. Yes, there had been a mistake. Fifteen years ago “he” was born into the wrong body. “He” was supposed to be a she.

She was sad because she would never have a period or bear children. She thought I would understand her predicament because I was female and gay. I listened intently with great curiosity. I admitted my confusion. I hadn’t had much experience around 15-year-old boys, and hadn’t a clue about what might transpire in their sexual development. She was not close to either parent, and though I wouldn’t tell them, I didn’t know what to do with the information. I was unfamiliar with the term transgender. I didn’t understand that it wasn’t a fascination with the female body, or a mistake on “his” part, or the truth; that despite outward appearances, “he” was a she.

Today, this relative is a beautiful woman exalting in herself and the newness of what it feels like to live as you are without being tied to the stated gender on your birth certificate or driver’s license. Actually, there was a mistake, and those documents have been changed. It took many years before she was able to start transitioning and later still to tell her parents. Part of her change and acceptance came about because what it means to be transgender is no longer foreign to us.

As a lesbian, I have experienced various challenges of being outside the majority. I understand discrimination and selective use of pronouns. I acknowledge the decisions of others not to be out. I can only imagine how hard it must be to transition, yet I feel hope and encouragement when I see how this family member has embraced her femininity. She asked for my support and I was happy to give it.

Coincidentally, during the time I witnessed her transition from afar, I also met a handful of transgendered individuals where I live and became friends with several. These relationships helped me understand the obstacles they faced by being born in the wrong body and the courage it took to make things right.

The term transsexual or transgender (some prefer one over the other, while others use it interchangeably) has come into the forefront of our modern conversation. As people are exposed to transmen and transwomen, there is productive discussion, misinformation, opinions favored over fact, hostility, indifference, tolerance, acceptance and love; and the distinction among knowledgeable persons between gender assignment and sexual orientation.

As individuals we make our contributions to society, we fall in love, pay taxes, raise children, travel, invent, consume, give and receive. All individuals count, yet all do not get a fair shake because prejudice and fear are strong. Ignorance and ego can trump common sense and love for our fellow neighbor, whoever they may be. The transgender community is small, but as they gain presence, they gain strength, confidence and the ability to educate others.

The Transgender Day of Empowerment helps promote awareness. It is a reminder that we can thrive in a positive environment and, by allowing and promoting individuals to become the best they can be, society as a whole benefits.

With more years of high profile exposure behind them, lesbians and gays have traveled further down this road. They know it can be not only rough, but life threatening. So it is with our brothers and sisters in the transgender community. Gays and lesbians have their pride celebrations, in part because it brings community presence, acknowledgement and acceptance. It is heartbreaking to honor those lost during the Transgender Day of Remembrance. The Transgender Day of Empowerment exists to empower us all and it’s an honor to share in it. If your community doesn’t have a celebration, start planning now and join us next year.

Zoe Amos brings her lesbian point of view to articles and stories on diverse topics. Connect with her on Facebook and Twitter. Read her stories on Kindle and Nook. Check out her other life at JanetFWilliams.com

The post From A to Zoe: Celebrate transgender empowerment first appeared on Lesbian.com.

BY CANDY PARKER

Sorry, boys — you’re beautiful, you’re talented and you have great hair, but after coming out as a lesbian nearly two decades ago, I think it’s time I bid you a fond farewell.

Yes, it will be difficult. No, there’s nothing you can do to make me change my mind. In this instance, it truly is me, not you. So let’s just get this over with, shall we?

Dear David Cassidy —

Ah, David. You were my very first celebrity crush. I was barely 10 years old, flipping through channels on my 13” black and white television when I stumbled upon an early episode of “The Partridge Family.” From the moment I discovered your feathery-haired, hazel-eyed wisp of a man character, Keith Partridge, I was a goner.

While many lesbians-in-the-making back then had it bad for Susan Dey (your show sister, Laurie, who I secretly hoped you’d marry if we didn’t work out), I became fixated on you, plastering my bedroom walls with tear-out images of you from 16 and Tiger Beat magazines.

I played your albums (both solo and with the made-for-television Partridges) endlessly, either transcribing every song lyric into my prized notebook or strumming and singing along, never letting the fact that I could neither play the guitar nor sing deter me in any way. Our voices sounded so perfect together, David; confirmation that our love was destined to be.

Oh — and I wrote short stories about chance meetings with you, tales of moving in next to the Partridges or serendipitously making your acquaintance on a camping trip. (I wasn’t entirely selfish in my creative writing, mind you. My sister was absolutely in love with Donny Osmond back then — I know, there’s no accounting for taste — so that’s why I made sure he was on those imaginary camping trips with you so she could fall in “Puppy Love,” too.)

While as a child I never saw you in concert, I’ve seen you several times as an adult – including an appearance at the Birchmere just last year. (I’m sure you remember me sitting at that front table, clapping and singing along to “Point Me In the Direction of Albuquerque.” Yes, I know it’s your favorite Partridge Family song, too, but that’s not enough to keep us together.)

I hate to do this so close to your birthday — yes, I remembered. How could I ever forget the April 12 birth date image from the “Up To Date” album cover?  But you’ve not aged very gracefully, the DUIs are stacking up and I have a thing for girls.

They say you never forget your first, so please know that you will forever hold a place in my heart as my virgin teenybopper infatuation. (And, no, you can’t have your lunchbox back.)

Dear Rick Springfield —

Oh, Rick. How do I begin to say goodbye to you? You were there for me as I headed into my 20s and I was dealing with the fact that David and I just weren’t going to happen any time soon. You were just what the heart doctor ordered, another long-haired, guitar-playing dreamboat.

You hit it big just about the time MTV broke on the scene – you know, back when they actually played music videos – and I lived for every airing of “Jessie’s Girl,” “Don’t Talk to Strangers,” and “Human Touch.” Your video production values weren’t all that great, but you looked pretty hot playing the guitar and punctuating your performances with well-timed, but seemingly pointless, karate kicks. (Yes, I know you’re into martial arts, but enough already with the high kicks, okay?)

Rick, I know you’ve probably always wondered who it was who went to see “Hard to Hold ” in the theater. In this bittersweet moment I’ll reveal that it was I.

Yep, I actually paid to see that five times. Clearly, I was in love.

I’ll always remember you for allowing me to see a slew of 80s one-hit wonders as your opening acts at Merriweather Post Pavillion —  Tommy Tutone (“867-5309/Jenny”), Corey Hart (“Sunglasses at Night”) and Aimee Mann’s ‘Til Tuesday (“Voices Carry”).

Sadly, my affection for you has faded somewhat over the years. I bought your ego-ography — oops, I meant autobiography —  “Late, Late at Night,” several years ago but never made it through it and 1988’s “Rock of Life” was the last LP of yours I purchased.

Please know that you will forever remain among my top three celebrity guy crushes and I’ll always be indebted to you for my karaoke success with “Jessie’s Girl.” (News flash: That song is a huge hit at lesbian bars.)

Dear Keith Urban —

This is a tough letter to write, Keith. I’m not sure how to explain my infatuation with you, though I know it must end.

You see, I’m not a huge country music fan and I’ve been a card-carrying lesbian since 1996. So we could never work. Besides, Nicole (or Nicky as we like to call her, huh?) has stood by you through so much. It just wouldn’t be fair to her if we were to continue.

It won’t be easy to get over your guitar-shredding, country-crooning Aussie ways. Your long hair (before the semi-recent cut, that is); your slight lisp when you speak (it makes you seem vulnerable) and the way you teared up during the mass wedding during the 2014 Grammy’s just melt my heart.

I’d be less-than-genuine if I didn’t confess that you’re the primary reason I watch “American Idol.” (Well, at least since M.K. Nobilette left the show earlier this season.) And it won’t be easy to see you on the screen each week, though directing my gaze toward Jennifer Lopez will help lessen the pain somewhat.

As a final goodbye, I’ll be deleting your most recent television performances on the Grammy’s (“Cop Car” with Gary Clark) and the Country Music Awards (“We Were Us” with Miranda Lambert) from my DVR. I know it seems silly, but I’ll otherwise never get over you as even now I find myself watching you in this video more than Miranda, like a good lesbian would.

Goodbye, boys, and thank you all for being so pretty. You see, my crushes on guys like you were like baby steps that eased me into recognizing that I actually liked girls. And for that, I will always love you.

The post To all the men I’ve loved before first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Lynn and Cathy from I Want the World to Know on Vimeo.

In August 2009, actress/vlogger/therapist Cathy DeBuono invited her mother, Lynn, to talk about her experience dealing with Cathy’s sexuality on her live vlog “What’s Your Problem?” When Cathy first came out to her mother, she did not receive the reaction she thought she would get.

Lynn was surprised, confused, and angry. She moved through many different stages of grief including feelings of confusion, guilt, and mourning the loss of the child she thought she knew. Though it took her a few years to fully accept and understand Cathy’s life, she is now one of her daughter’s biggest fans.

Lynn urges young people to be patient with their families, but to never tolerate living in the closet. She believes that everyone should come out and live full, honest lives. Lynn is the perfect example of a parent struggling with their own “coming out” experience: coming out to support and accept their LGBTQ son or daughter.

The post Cathy DeBuono’s mom on coming out first appeared on Lesbian.com.

There’s no way to “butch up” a minivan

BY BUTCH JAXON
ButchOnTap.com

I’ve started thinking about a new car and so have been paying attention to things I would not normally pay attention to. The other day I saw an ad proudly announcing that the new mini-van from whomever “can accommodate 7!” Wow, they are super proud of that.

Now, first and foremost, I know plenty of people need big ass cars and SUVs. Of course. If you have a huge family, are a coach, whatever. Right? No problem. But, for me, and my family of 3, I do not need such a vehicle, and I am so pleased.

Read more at ButchOnTap.com

ButchOnTap is written by Butch Jaxon, a fledgling writer who has been a lesbian her whole life. Butch was raised in San Diego and is an accomplished lawyer. She loves to write, play any kind of sport or game, consume any kind of entertainment, and is frequently found drinking lattes in a bookstore or discovering new beers at local micro-breweries.

The post Hey Butch: What’s in your driveway? first appeared on Lesbian.com.

She was the most gorgeous woman in the world to me. She was her own kind of rebel — rode a Harley, cackled like a witch, and sang like an angel. That woman could make a sailor blush with her potty mouth, and yet would have us in our Sunday best for church each week. To my dad’s chagrin she was the first to insist we rescue another animal and was the kind of woman to invite a Mexican family who barely spoke english to our home for dinner within 5 minutes of meeting them in J.C. Penny’s. I adored her twisted sense of humor. The way she would give her best dead pan stare at my high school date and tell ‘em she was an ER nurse and knew over 100 ways to do a person in without getting caught should they act “inappropriately” with me.

This was my “Mamacita”, the mother I knew and loved more than anyone as a child and young adult. They say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and I must admit I claimed her unruly spirit and then some. I am my mother’s Alaskan-born wild child, known to her as “you little shit!” Even with our shared love for art, animals, underdogs, and dropping the f bomb, I kept my pent up and confused feelings concerning my sexual orientation a personal secret throughout high school. Living in the very conservative town of Greensboro, NC, it was not an easy topic to breach. Not to my family. Not to my community. Not even to myself.

Read more at TraciDinwiddie.com

Traci Dinwiddie is an actress, yogini, West African drummer, part-time badass and full time fruitcake. Learn more about the “Elena Undone” star by visiting TraciDinwiddie.com.

The post Birthday blessings: A daughter’s tribute to her mother first appeared on Lesbian.com.

My little brother, Jim, once won a blue ribbon at a summer science fair. He played a pre-taped screech of the opening of our old refrigerator door causing Franklin, his pet hamster to do double time on his hamster wheel, thinking some iceberg lettuce was coming his way. Jim proved Pavlov right, and inadvertently predicted some later family food issues. Nonetheless we were proud of him.

The summer of 2012 was one of the biggest science fairs ever.

When the physicists at the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland confirmed the existence of the Higgs boson, it was 3 a.m. in the Brown University Physics lab. My friend, the I.T. go-to-gal there, said they had a champagne fueled all-nighter to honor the discovery of the Higgs field and the long work of one of their own labmates, a particle physicist who had worked on the boson for fifty years.

The confirmation of the discovery will help particle physicists understand the basic building blocks of matter and could open up a “new” physics beyond current theories.

It was another early morning when the Mars Space Landing spacecraft robotically and safely landed a third payload on Mars. The Curiosity, twice as long and five times as heavy as the two previous payloads, successfully completed the seven minutes of terror descent into the Martian atmosphere and nailed its landing in the Gale Crater. The scientists at the Jet Propulsion Lab also popped some late night corks and rightly saluted their accomplishment.

What a pleasure to celebrate the achievements of real physicists and engineers!

The current state of anti-science is fact-free-and-proud, rife with assertions from the schvitzing climate change deniers, the we-only-go-back-4,000- years Creationist Theme park rangers, and the because-I-said-so social scientists.

Now I am not a scientist; I don’t even play one on TV (though for Halloween one year, I did dress up as Marie Curie). Though wildly excited by science news, I can barely grasp the implications of these mind-boggling discoveries. But one political science principle I do understand: For every scientific achievement there comes the inevitable opposite, but not at all equal, anti-science backlash.

The Higgs boson has been called, “the God Particle” and despite the fact that the phrase makes fact-based scientists’ skin crawl and blotch, expect recriminations from the I-don’t-need-no-stinking-beaker set: “How dare you reduce God to a particle? I and everyone in my church know that God is a big big Big Deal.”

Sunday’s sermon: Obamacare Makes God a Particle.

Descendants of conspiracy theorists who claimed the moon landing was some CIA shenanigans staged at a small studio in Torrance, California, will try to demonstrate thatCuriosity is a hoax. “See that shadow? Bigfoot.”

In the afterglow of Higgs boson and Curiosity, I wondered wistfully if they might be the last actual science we would ever see. Anti-scientists feel they already have all the fundamental answers to life’s questions. They are anti-curiosity and thus anti-life. Could it just be home-school baking soda volcanoes from here on out?

Meanwhile, you know that when the Earth’s heat gets even more unbearable, One Percent Airways will already have their summer schedule geared up for on-the-hour flights to Mars’s vineyard. They’re no dummies.

Kate Clinton is a faith-based, tax-paying, America-loving political humorist and family entertainer. See more from the legendary Kate Clinton at KateClinton.com.

The post CommuniKate: The end of science first appeared on Lesbian.com.

“Hey look,” I say, pointing to the HRC sticker on the bumper of the red Toyota Camry driving in the lane next to us, “there’s a gay car.”

In our two-mom family’s suburban hometown, spotting a gay car is not exactly a daily event. So when I see one, I point it out to the kids, as a way of reminding them that, despite the fact that we appear to be the only queer family at their elementary school, we’re not out here alone.

B-man, my second grader, and K-bird, my kindergartener, sit rod-straight in their car seats and peer out the window to spot the symbol.

“What’s gay?” K-bird asks.

What?! “Where’ve you been for the past five years?” sarcastic-me wants to know. We’ve gone over this like a thousand times.

But sarcastic-me is not allowed to speak to my kids. So mom-me intervenes, “Remember? Gay people are people who love someone of the same gender. Like a boy who loves a boy or a girl who loves a girl.”

“Oh yeaaaah,” K-bird says, as if rediscovering a long lost fact from his earlier years.

Big brother helps out, “You know, like Mommy and Mama love each other, so they’re called ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian.’”

“Right,” says K-bird to his brother, “and I’m gay because I love you.”

Ummmm …

Welcome to the world of parenting as improv, in which your pint-sized scene partner tosses you a line, and you scroll, high-speed, through a list of possible responses. In this case:

1. Laugh out loud. (Rarely a good idea.)
2. Make an Ernie and Bert joke. (No matter how thoroughly my Irish ancestry predisposes me to drop a perfect one-liner, this is also rarely a good idea.)
3. Stall. (Helpful, but not a final solution.)
4. Employ the “Yes, and …” tactic. (Works well in improv and parenting.)

This time I go for option number four: “Yes, you do love your brother very much. And that’s a different kind of love.”

Crap. The minute the words fall out of my mouth, I know I’ve set myself up for the next question:

“What do you mean?”

I cannot tell you how many times, in any given week, I end up in exactly this place: stuck between a grown-up concept and a kid who wants an explanation he can understand.

I mean, how do you explain the difference between family love and romantic love to a kindergartener? Aren’t they kind of too young to get it? Or is that just the ghost of my repressed Catholic past coming back to haunt me? Maybe there’s a parenting book about this somewhere? But these improv moments don’t allow time for research, and those books tend not to be written from a homo-inclusive perspective, if you know what I mean.

To further complicate things, when these big questions come up, I want to answer in a truthful way that both satisfies the kid’s quest for information and leaves room for him to develop his own ideas, all while speaking in non-scarring, child-appropriate language.

So, you know, how do you do that?

“Well, there are different kinds of love,” I begin, “like the way you guys love each other is called sibling love, and the way I love you guys is parent love, and the way I love your mama is called romantic love.”

I wait a beat, and there it is again, “What do you mean?”

Here’s where I hit the real trouble zone. All the possible responses I can think of sound both ridiculous and reductive, like I’m some updated version of a 1950s dad chucking his son on the chin, saying, Well, son, when a man and a man love each other …

So instead of concocting some lame ass speech that K-bird can ridicule me for when he’s a teenager, I go for the truth: “I don’t really know how to explain romantic love to you in a way that you can understand.”

And then I go for the stall: “I don’t think we really know yet if you’re gay or straight. If you end up falling in love with men, you’ll be gay, and if you end up falling in love with women, you’ll be straight, and if you end up falling in love with men and women, you’ll be bisexual. But no matter what, the most important thing is that you feel loved.”

To be honest, I can’t say that was a satisfying answer for either one of us, and someday teenage K-bird could well ridicule me for having said it, but if he does, I’ll remind him what he said back:

“Well, Mommy, I know I’m straight. Because I’m in love with you.”

Poet, writer, activist, and educator, Cheryl Dumesnil is the author of the forthcoming memoir “Love Song for Baby X: How I Stayed (Almost) Sane on the Rocky Road to Parenthood.” She spends her free time jumping on a trampoline and telling potty jokes, because the sound of her kids’ laughter makes her really, really happy.

The post Parenting as improv first appeared on Lesbian.com.

Maine, Maryland, Minnesota, and Washington State will have marriage on the mind this November when voters in support of equality are being instructed to “Vote Yes on 1” in Maine; “Vote for Question 6” in Maryland; “Vote No” in Minnesota; and “Vote to Approve R74” in Washington State.

Here in Washington State, a few dozen politicians didn’t pass marriage equality. We the People passed marriage equality in Washington State. The law was signed by Gov. Chris Gregoire on February 13, 2012. Surprisingly, no straight people were harmed with the passage of marriage equality on this day — or the many that followed.

Read more at TheSeattleLesbian.com

The Seattle Lesbian online magazine reaches more than 188,000 readers per week globally.

The post Election 2012: Equality is not created in a vacuum first appeared on Lesbian.com.