Let Me Tell You About Your Son

Forty two years ago, there was a boy born to a young couple who'd been married for just over a year. They gave him a name to honor passed ancestors, but they called him Yimi which could easily be anglicized to "Jimmy" to blend in with the other kids. Yimi's bright blue eyes and snow white hair made everyone who saw him gasp at his handsome little features. Everyone said he'd be quite the heartbreaker when he got older and they were right. People began to notice Yimi as being too "pretty" by the time he was nine. The other kids began to bully him because he was perceived as different. His parents did everything they could to console the child, saying they were jealous and they didn't know the real him. Their love for Yimi was immense because he was their first born and perfect, there would never be another like him. When that blond hair, blue eyed boy was eleven, he began to realize he was different and his relationship with parents changed forever.

He had only one friend, Alex, who was also frequently picked on by the rest of the kids because his parents were of mixed race. Alex and Yimi spent a lot of time together building forts, playing Atari, or biking to the lake to jump off a bridge. They were inseparable.  Alex was a couple years older than Yimi and had older brothers. He was Yimi's world because he was the only kid who seemed to understand him. One day Alex brought some dirty magazines to their fort and Yimi's curiosities were sparked and he began to experiment. What they felt at that moment was completely natural for the boys and their experimentation evolved into schoolboys' relationship. Yimi's father caught them kissing one afternoon and put and immediate end to their friendship. Yimi was never to see Alex again.

Yimi's parents felt a great deal of shame and anguish for the horrific acts their son had done. There was no way an old family with deep Southern roots could be gay, especially since their child was to be ceremonially bound to their religious beliefs in less than two years. In their desperation they sent Yimi to a psychiatric hospital three hundred miles away, where they were certain he would not be seen by anyone they knew. The doctors performed all kinds of tests on Yimi to see if there was anything physically wrong. His blood and urine was clean and his EEG was pretty normal. They began to test drugs to see if they could find a combination that would curb his sexual desires.  They eventually deemed him fit to return home after six months of therapy with a regimen of four pills to take every day.

Yimi's life seemed good on the outside. He did things "normal" boys his age did. He focused on his studies, both educational and religious. He rode his bike for miles whenever he could. He made a few new friends and even joined the high school marching band, even though he was still in middle school. He even met a girl who would become his best friend that everyone assumed was his girlfriend. Yimi knew something was missing and his head was too filled with the expectations of others to figure out what it was. His parents couldn't be happier with the progress their "perfect" son had made.

Yimi was invited to a homecoming party with some of his older friends from the marching band when he was thirteen. Everything about the party had things his parents had forbidden; drinking, smoking, and horror movies. He got pretty drunk at the party and his good friend, Jeff, knew that sending him home in that condition would be the worst possible thing he could do. Jeff called Yimi's parents to say he would be spending the night with him because his truck's battery died and he'd be home first thing in the morning. Yimi drunkenly confessed his attraction to Jeff that night and he admitted he shared those feelings. Jeff and Yimi had become lovers that night. Their secret relationship lasted a few months and Yimi finally began to feel normal and finally happy with himself.

Yimi's father began to notice a change in him and waited until his younger sisters had gone to bed to have a man to man conversation. They sat on the porch with a beer in their hands and talked about a lot of little things. Finally, his father asked him if he was gay again.  Yimi knew this was coming and answered truthfully, that he was gay and fully understood what that meant. He expressed how he felt about another, nameless, boy and he couldn't be happier. His father seemed to accept his answers and they shared a couple more beers before going to bed. Yimi went to bed feeling relieved that he didn't have to hide anymore.

A week later the family had decided to take a road trip to an amusement park in another state.  All of the kids were excited and sang Don't Worry Be Happy, even though they were all off key and their parents cringed every time it came on the radio. They got off the interstate and drove to a small complex of buildings that their father called a hotel. Yimi realized immediately that it was another hospital. When they got out of the car Yimi realized the only bag in the trunk was his, he would not be returning with the family. 

The receptionist called his parents by name as they walked through the door.  His sisters were sent to a small play area just off the lobby. A door opened with a buzz and out came three people who introduced themselves as a therapist and two unit aides. One of the aides took Yimi's bag and the other two met with his parents and him in a small office.  It was decided that Yimi would stay for treatment. Another round of tests and medication combinations were to be tried for the next eight months. Because Yimi's issues were of a sexual nature it was decided he would need to be transferred from the Adolescent Unit to the Adult Unit. Yimi was "home schooled" during that time through the hospital to give some sense of normalcy. Eventually, the "right combination medications" was found and Yimi was to be sent home. The side effects of the pills were quite severe and cost him much of his vision, but a pill typically given to Parkinson's Disease patients helped with that. Yimi's parents picked him up with the hopes he would become a productive member of society rather than the deviant they abandoned months before.

Yimi's home life was very stagnate and he began to put on weight. He didn't play his trumpet, his bike lay rusting in the yard, and his horse wasn't ridden. He spent much of his time in his room in silence saying he was reading, but in all honesty he couldn't concentrate on any of the books on his shelves. Shortly before his fifteenth birthday a miracle happened, his parents had forgotten to refill his medications and it was a long weekend due to holidays. His head began to clear and he started getting more active around the house. While not his old self, he was functional enough to do some of the things he loved best. He also realized what he had to do during this brief moment of clarity.

The prescriptions were refilled and the drugs were reintroduced to Yimi's system.  Yimi had learned how to force himself to be sick each morning and no one noticed. His head had completely cleared after a couple months and he made sure he acted stoic enough to keep his parents in the dark about what he was doing. He continued to hide in his room as much as possible and sat on the sofa watching television with the family making sure to keep his laughter hidden. His mother had noticed some weight loss and questioned it, but his father said a boy's body goes through changes during puberty and not to worry. Early one autumn morning, Yimi packed his school duffel bag with clothes and left. Yimi was finally free.

He managed to get to Billings where he knew he would be able to find some sort of help; after all it was the biggest city in the state. Instead he found no succor. The shelter wouldn't take him because he was a minor, the churches did no more than offer a little food, and everyone wanted to call the police to have him returned to his parents. Instead he found a way to survive on his own. There was plenty of food in trash cans. The local all night laundromat provided plenty of heat. And his body was able to earn him money when absolutely necessary. Sometimes he was able to get a hot shower, fresh food, and even the gift of new clothes. His life wasn't what he wanted, but he was free from his parents.

One November night Yimi was huddled in his plywood crate behind the laundromat when a man was leaving the bar through the back door and spotted him. He looked at Yimi with tears in his eyes and asked him to come to his home. This had become fairly routine for Yimi so he had no problems with what he knew would happen.  The man introduced himself as Audie and they walked to his car. Even though there was snow on the ground, Audie had to keep the windows partially open to vent Yimi's odor during the drive. Once at the two story home on the nice side of town, Audie took the skeletal kid directly to a bathroom and proceeded to fill the tub while helping him undress. Yimi always enjoyed the feeling of being in hot water and stayed in the tub until the water grew cold. Audie checked to see if the boy was adequately clean and helped him from the bath to dry him off. Yimi was then given a robe and a pair of slippers that were too big. Mouth watering smells were coming from the kitchen and Yimi was treated to one of the most delicious meals he'd had in months. When he could eat no more, Yimi was led to a bedroom and tucked into bed. The lights were turned off and he drifted into a deep sleep, the best he ever had.

Audie asked Yimi to stay with him for a while, with the conditions that he not steal from him and he went back to school.  Yimi agreed without hesitation. Audie was very kind to him and never asked for anything that the others had. Yimi told him he was gay and Audie said he knew and was also gay. Audie requested the boy call his parents after a few days and Yimi agreed. His father answered the phone and told him to not go home or call again. Yimi cried and Audie was there to hold him. Over the next couple months, Audie did everything he could to make sure Yimi's needs were met. Eventually a path to emancipation was found and followed. Yimi's parents didn't bother to show up to the hearing. Yimi was "legally an adult" and was able to start building his own life. Audie quickly enrolled Yimi into school so he could finish his education. Audie became the friend and companion Yimi had always wanted.

Yimi finally admitted his feelings for Audie and was met with hesitation. Yimi was only fifteen, but extraordinarily mature for his age, and Audie had just turned thirty two. Yimi was heartbroken until Audie sat him down to talk about his feelings and how he wanted to be with Yimi for all the "right reasons." The pair were handfasted the following month, married within the tenets of Audie's religious beliefs. They renewed their vows each year on their anniversary for the next eight years.

Audie lost his battle with AIDS and cancer and Yimi's world fell apart and you weren't there to help him in his greatest time of need. Audie's mother had overturned his will after convincing a judge that the seven year old document was filed when he was not of sound mind. Yimi was rendered homeless and told he could only take what was on paper as his: his clothes, his Ford Ranger, and a few trinkets from the home. Yimi reached out to his parents, but they had temporarily divorced and neither would help him. Audie and Yimi had always talked about going to Florida, what people on AOL had called the Gay Mecca, but couldn't because Audie had grown too ill. Yimi made the drive alone, prostituting for gas and food, to get to the one place he knew he would feel welcome. Instead he found communities with older men who wanted nothing more to use him. He was back to where he was at fourteen, a homeless prostitute sleeping in a truck with a sheltie to keep him warm.

A DJ, named Chris, in a gay bar met Yimi and took a liking to him. He felt sorry for Yimi and offered him a home in exchange for sexual favors. Yimi agreed since that's all he was worth anyway. Yimi was able to clean up and piece together a few shards of himself enough to get a menial job at the local grocery store. Chris had suggested he go to church with him, but Yimi refused because he couldn't worship a god that used him as his personal whipping boy. Their living situation grew worse as Yimi became more independent after getting a job in a local governmental office. Chris began to abuse Yimi, beating him and his dog, until the neighbors finally called the police and Chris was arrested. Chris called Yimi from the jail to apologize, but Yimi knew it wouldn't end. He packed up his stuff and moved with his dog across the state.

Yimi was able to find a job and apartment very quickly and begin his new life. He took a new nickname, Angel (from Angelus on Buffy the Vampire Slayer), to make it harder to be found by Chris. He found his new home had a very close knit gay community and was welcomed with open arms. He learned that they genuinely liked him and had no expectations that could hurt him physically or mentally. Unfortunately Yimi couldn't hide from the past and suffered nightmares, depression, and made a few attempts at suicide. His friends were there for him, especially those who knew everything that had happened to him in his youth. One well meaning friend introduced him to a rabbi, who took a deep interest in him. Yimi told him his new nickname, but the rabbi wanted to know his real name. He told the rabbi his birth name and rabbi said it was a proud name and he liked it. Despite his previous misgivings about his religious past, the rabbi was able to let Yimi find his own way back to faith. Yimi moved in with his new rabbi who became his best friend and confidant without any expectations. Yimi got a good job on his own merits, his own home, and started to live life to the fullest for the first time in years. In fact, it was the happiest he had been since Audie had passed.

Yimi had no idea how fragile that happiness was. Even though there were periods of depression from time to time, he was able to keep it under control for the most part. He had his friends near when things were at their worst. There were a few attempts at his own life, but they were caught and he was saved by those who loved him. At least until that day in late September of 2013 when he made the last attempt to contact you, his family, after years of unreturned calls and text messages. He couldn't understand why you would only take his calls if you were alone, and then only speak for a couple minutes. No one knew he was trying to reconcile with you, or how important it was for him. Suddenly everyone understood what he meant by Redneck Rehab, he was trying to show you he was normal and wanted to have his family in his life. But the last words from his dad were the final nail in his coffin, "Aw. Boo Hoo. Go cry to someone else." And he did. He took every single pill he had from recently refilled prescriptions: Chantix, Xanax, Lunesta, and Flexeril. He sent his friends a final text message of saying goodbye and drifted to sleep. The boy you called Yimi was never to wake again.

I woke up a few days later, unaware of my surroundings, to the calming voice of an old friend. He'd taken the liberty of calling my work to say I was ill and would be seeking medical attention if I didn't improve. I was given a lot of coffee and water to flush the residual chemicals from my body. I drank broths and soups to maintain my strength. My network of friends was able to reach out to doctors and psychiatrists who were very knowledgeable of gay issues, one specifically had experience dealing with people who had suffered emotional traumas from loved ones who wouldn't understand what homosexuality really was. The next week I was able to return to work and my friends kept close tabs on me by text messages throughout the day. I spent the following few weeks in counseling, where I was told the problem was no longer depression. I was actually suffering from PTSD inadvertently caused by those trying to help me all those years ago. The social worker who was counseling me did so for free; he said my survival was worth more than money. Everyone who was a part of my recovery had one question: How was I able to survive what I'd done?

You tried to contact your son a few times these past couple months but you only got voicemails and unanswered text messages. There are things I should tell you, but I can't because they'll likely be too painful for the both of us. You should know that Yimi Sadeh did everything he could to be the kind of man you'd be proud of. He was an exceptional man, despite the hardships that he carried with him. He finished school. He knew what unconditional love was. And he was truly happy with his life, even if it didn't meet your religious approval. I'm sure you heard on my voicemail that I am Z'ev Hadash, as I'm sure you're aware Hadash means New.  I am not a part of your family and I likely never will be. I'm no longer ashamed of letting the Great Family down for being different. I embrace who I am and will continue to do so. If you admit to anyone that you did have a son, you can tell them he passed away September 21, 2013 of complications of a medical condition. It wouldn't be a lie since the last part of Yimi that wanted so much to be loved by his family did die that night and it was his depression that took him.  I'm not sure if it means anything to you, Mrs. Sadeh, but I am very sorry for your loss.

Give LGBT Teens a Choice Other Than the Streets

Coming out isn’t a debutante ball, it’s a risk that can put lives in jeopardy.  I’m not surprised that up to 40% of gay teens attempt suicide each year according to the Suicide Prevention Resource Center.  Nor was I shocked to learn that 40% of youths that are homeless are identified as LGBT since many were forced to leave upon coming out.   The streets subject these young Americans to situations that can lead to crime, disease, mental illness, addictions and death.  I was one of the 40% in both cases.  I was one of the lucky ones.  I was rescued.

When I was a child my sexuality was never in question, it was a topic best not discussed.  My parents tried several methods to alter my nature with methods ranging from religion, medicine and “witchcraft.”  I was ten when they sent me to the first psychiatric center which began a series of drug trials to see which combination would “provide positive changes” in my mental health.  The third center experimented with “holistic” methods from herbs to hypnosis, all failed miserably.  My faith was probably the strongest weapon my parents could wield.  They knew the dogma and quoted them as Scripture creating an intense feeling of self-hatred.  When that didn’t work the beatings commenced, my dad’s equivalent to stoning.  I can’t tell you how many times I was forced to be the “skins” in gym class so everyone could see the bruises on my back and legs to add to my shame.  When I turned fourteen I had “The Talk” with my parents, two days later I was handed a backpack and told I could take whatever I could carry. 

I won’t go into too much detail on how I survived the next several months; after twenty five years there are some things I haven’t completely coped with.   I had to learn very quickly how to take care of myself and how far I would go to do so.  One November night in Montana I was huddled between a piece of plywood and a laundry mat dryer vent to keep warm when I was rescued. That night I got a hot shower, food, a place to sleep and “Zach” asked for nothing in return.  He insisted that I call my parents and let them know I was safe, but their reaction was a laundry list of threats.  He showed genuine concern for me and told me I could stay as long as I needed.  For the first time in years I felt safe.

Today there is an estimated 320,000 to 400,000 LGBT youths facing homelessness each year and there is little being done to help them.  Sending them back to abusive situations would only increase the abuse and suicide rate among this fragile demographic.  It’s extremely difficult to find a quality foster home for a straight teen, the likelihood of finding a home for a gay teen would be nearly impossible.  If government supervised group homes were available many of the kids would probably still prefer the streets to a prisonlike environment.  It’s time we considered another option and allow the estimated 646,464 LGBT households in America to open their doors to provide a safe home for these at-risk young adults.

I know such a suggestion would immediately be shot down if it ever came up for a vote, but consider the options.  Many LGBT couples across America have a desire to have children but cannot due to laws and bias against them.  I understand there would need to be a few additional hands at Children’s Services to monitor these homes, but I can’t think of a better environment for these teens to learn how to become responsible adults.  I know several stable couples willing to lend their spare bedrooms to these forgotten children at their own expense, but are afraid the law would immediately have them labeled as kidnappers and sexual predators.  The important thing is these kids would have a chance at a normal life, finish school and move on to being productive members of society.   Zach took that risk with me and I turned out alright. 

There was a young gay teen named Daniel who came from one of the worst homes I can imagine.  His mother, trying to support her heroin addiction, started prostituting him out at age thirteen to men in their fifties.  She claimed she was teaching him a lesson about the wrongs of homosexuality.  Daniel’s mother was arrested and sent to prison when he was fifteen.  He was placed in a foster home with Ben, a single gay man of twenty eight who had a strong desire to be a parent.  Daniel outed Ben to his social worker in casual conversation about how happy he was in his home of nearly a year.  Daniel was moved to a new home within the week and he quickly ran away.  A couple weeks later his body was found with a suicide note.  In it he talked about how his new home was strongly anti-gay and his social worker wouldn’t move him.  He ended the letter with an expression of the thanks and love he felt for Ben, the only dad he ever really knew.  If Daniel had been allowed to stay with Ben, he’d be twenty seven and may have fulfilled his dream of being a lawyer.  He wanted to practice family law to help others like him.

It’s time to consider allowing LGBT teens to move into gay homes if they don’t feel safe living with their parents.  Considering their needs over social norms would be a great first step in preventing hundreds of thousands of these kids from ending up on the street.  The average age of gay homeless teens in America is 13.5 years, an age where most courts are willing to listen to a child during custody battles.  If an eleven year old is able to choose his home in the event of a divorce, it’s time the courts start listening to gay teens before they disappear.  When placing a child in a foster home or adoption, one of the things they examine is the cultural background of the perspective parents.  Whenever possible they try to keep children in homes where they will be able to maintain their cultural identity and not feel like a complete outsider, usually based on race or religion.  Similarly, a gay teen should be given the choice to live in a safe supportive home. 

Why I Believe I Can Be Jewish and Gay

It’s difficult to turn on any news program without finding some discussion on homosexuality and religion.  President Barack Obama has confirmed his support of Gay Marriage; giving hope to millions they may finally have equal rights under the law.   The Gay Marriage debate seems to have turned everyone into a Biblical scholar that can only quote a couple admonishments of homosexuality in Scripture and that is enough to prove their point.  Before that every network had some dramatic telling of Dan Savage’s attack on religion.  With these new hot topics being on the top of everyone’s mind, I’ve been asked several times how I can reconcile my Judaism with my homosexuality.

My answer is simple: Most people don’t know how to read the Torah or Bible.  I’m sure I’ve just angered 99% of the people who will read this; but it’s true.  Most people, me included, are cherry pickers when reading the Good Book.  By picking out the single line from the center of a paragraph one can invent any interpretation they chose, usually out of context.  Religious leaders have been doing this for centuries and their misinterpretations have become dogma.  A wise rabbi once told me to read my TaNaKH (Jewish Bible) with the same enthusiasm I had when I read the Harry Potter series and when I did, it was like reading a completely new book.

Leviticus 18 is usually the first example given of G-d’s abhorrence to homosexuality.  Sure, line 22 would seem to be such an admonishment if you choose to read only that line.  The chapter actually starts with a rewording of the First Utterance (First and Second Commandments), reaffirming who our G-d is.  We’re also advised not to fall into the practices of the Egyptians and Canaanites.  We’re provided with a long list of women we shouldn’t have sex with for one reason or another; most of which should have been common sense.  Now that there’s all this sex on our minds, here’s an edict not sacrifice our babies to Molek (a local deity). Okay back to sex, we can’t do it with other guys or animals.  Once again, we’re told don’t do as they did and, just in case you missed it, here’s another reminder of who our G-d is. The parsha may appear to be about sexual purity on the surface, but I read it differently.

In my Comprehensive Writing course during high school, one of the things taught was basic writing structure.  First is the opening: Tell them what you’re going to tell them.  This is followed by a few lines or paragraphs of body: Tell them what you want to tell them. Finally comes the conclusion: Tell them what you told them.  It is not difficult to see that Leviticus 18 is written in the same structure and the main intent is clearly regarding idolatry, not sexual piety.  “I’m G-d. Don’t worship me the way they do their gods. Which means don’t do these things as sacred acts and sacrifices because as your G-d I don’t like it.”  If adultery were the issue, I am sure G-d would have used the Seventh Commandment to open and close the chapter.  Recently, a Born-Again Christian produced Romans 1:18-32 as proof of G-d’s hatred of gays, which steeled my opinion when I found it written in the same basic format showing the topic to be idolatry.

The next example frequently given is Sodom and Gomorrah in the story of Lot.  Here we have a guy living in a tent outside of town who gets a visit from three angels.  Every single male resident of the town want to “know” the three guests; obviously there would be rape involved. Lot refuses and offers his two virgin daughters, but all the men refuse take the virgins since the angels are their target.  I find it very unlikely that both towns were filled with nothing but gay men.  I think their main sin was, again, idolatry.  Archeology has shown us the gods worshipped throughout the Middle East in Biblical times required various sex and blood sacrifices and I believe the Sodomites were out to do just that.

Probably the most controversial love story in the Bible is the story of David and Jonathan.  You cannot read their story in the books of Samuel without seeing several examples of how strong their love was.  .  As the story progresses we find that David and Jonathan’s souls were “knit with one another”, an obvious reference to soul mates.  The two men are constant companions even after David starts marrying every woman who can improve his status which eventually helped make him king; history shows marriage was a tool to promote treaties, grow wealth and gain lands that would increase the size of a kingdom.  This love story is tragically ended when Jonathan is killed by the Philistines, to which David lamented,  “Your love was wonderful to me, more than the love of women.”   Scholars usually refer to this story as the first bromance; however, each year more are showing there is a certain level of intimacy to the story that suggest it was romantic in nature.  If David and Jonathan were lovers, G-d obviously did not disapprove since He loved David in all things; except when he committed adultery and murder by proxy so he could take Bathsheba as a wife.

Every religion teaches that nothing can exist in nature unless G-d allows it to be.  One would be surprised to know that homosexuality has been observed in over 1,500 different species on the Earth, from the most complex to extremely basic.  Five hundred of these species have had their homosexual tendencies well documented.    If G-d felt homosexuality was a grievous trait for any living being to possess, He would have eliminated it before the first creature ever showed signs. 

It took me many years to realize that I can be a man of faith and gay at the same time, they weren’t mutually exclusive.  There were many years that I called myself an atheist, Wiccan, or spiritualist, but I knew there was something missing.  It took a great man to show me that my sexuality had little influence on what religions were open to me.  I admit, for me it wasn’t an easy path but it was well worth traveling.  Because in the end I realized that G-d would love me as long as I continue to work on being the best person possible, even a gay one.

It's Just a Stinking T-Shirt

Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I will scream bigotry and anti-Semitism from the highest rooftop if I perceive it, whether it’s real or not. Recently, the Huffington Post printed an article about a t-shirt being sold by Urban Outfitters that has received harsh criticism from the Anti-Defamation League of Philadelphia because of its design. When I first saw the shirt in question I thought, “Those bastards!” But then I started thinking about it and recognized that I could apply a valuable lesson I learned from Ben Patrick Johnson. I don’t want to climb a ladder until I can be reasonably sure there is discrimination to scream about.

When Adam B. first brought the Huffington Post article regarding this shirt to my attention I was furious. Obviously Urban Outfitters was out to smack the Jewish community in the face with their obvious support of the Holocaust right after Yom HaShoah. Why else would they sell a goldenrod yellow shirt with a Star of David above the left breast? Clearly, some sort of Hitlerian influence was involved in the design of this t-shirt and the growing trend of anti-Semitism in America has gained more ground in our society. Furthermore, they used a two-toned bluish-gray Star of David over the pocket! Clearly, this shirt was a reversal of the Auschwitz uniforms the Jews had to wear, if they were offered clothing at all. And what would this bundle of bigotry cost you? One hundred dollars! Clearly, Urban Outfitters values its hatred of Jews.

Then I started looking at the basic design of the t-shirt. It’s a simple pocket-t with an embroidered emblem on the pocket. I’ve seen t-shirts with that basic pattern for years. I’ve seen them with pink triangles, rainbows, American flags, and a multitude of other symbols. Why was this one different? The Star maybe? I wondered how many more there are in retail world. I Googled “Star of David T-Shirts” and every one I found had a large Star prominently displayed across the chest and stomach areas. No small Stars over the left breast. I thought that was odd. I know I’ve seen polo shirts with Stars of David over the left breast at my JCC, so there obviously is no prohibition to where the Star can be placed. With the exception of the color choices, I couldn’t find a reason for the anti-Semitic label being applied to this particular shirt.

I also remembered that catalog sales companies rarely produce their own goods offered to the consumer for purchase. Urban Outfitters labeled the shirt as “Wood Wood Kellog Tee” which gave some clue as to the origin of the shirt. Wood Wood is a European company that sells over-priced clothing via several retail environments including internet and stand-alone stores. Their main website appears to be from Denmark. Surely, a Danish company wouldn’t be a party to open anti-Semitism given Denmark’s history in World War Two in which they did everything possible to save their Jewish community. While browsing their site I found the second t-shirt that could be viewed as promoting Jewish pride, complete with Israeli colors of white with blue; the model is even wearing shorts that make it resemble the Israeli flag.

In this particular case, I see a company that designed a shirt with a poor choice of color and layout that was purchased by a second company for distribution to the American public. I don’t believe there were any malicious intentions on the part of the designer in question, although I question their age, knowledge and sensitivity to history. To the Anti-Defamation League of Philadelphia, I would like to remind them of the hazards of crying wolf.

Yes, It Gets Better. It's Up to Us to Help

Yesterday, I learned that Jamey Rodemeyer committed suicide months after he posted his own It Gets Better video to YouTube.  I found the news to be shocking and heartbreaking at the same time.  If he really believed it gets better he wouldn’t have done it, right?  Wrong.  Jamey probably found himself in the same position I did at his age.  Gay. Alone.  Like me, Jamey didn’t have the support he needed in his most desperate time.  We can try to place blame on the bullies, schools, government and maybe even his parents; but we could be wrong.  The blame may very well lie with us, the Gay Community.

In the 80’s there were certain risks for admitting to ourselves and others our true natures.  Most of us remained closeted into our twenties and beyond.  Many sought refuge in places and people that were not healthy to us; bars and the trolls that frequented them.  These sanctuaries led to various addictions, abuses and diseases that had the potential to lead us to certain destruction.  There was nowhere else to go.  Our parents didn’t approve. Our religious leaders convinced us that we were damned.  And even our best friends quit talking to us.  Isolated, we struggled through each day hoping for things to get better.

 Today every major city has a Gay Lesbian Community Center (GLCC), but they’re lacking in services to the LBGT community.  I called a few in my area and asked if there were any activities going on that I may find interesting.  All told me about their HIV testing schedules, one told me about a semi-annual bar-b-que.  That’s it. I then explained that I needed information on youth oriented activities since my neighbor’s son, fourteen, is gay and he’s really going through a tough time and I think he should connect with others in West Palm Beach in his own age group.  I got dead air.  All these “resources” and nothing to help the most vulnerable in our community.

I realize why “Matt” is a permanent fixture on my patio; he has nowhere else to go.  Everything I thought was there to help him turned out to be a myth.  There is no peer counseling or gay health issues awareness talks for him to attend.  I couldn’t find a single social group for gay teens to get together in a clean safe environment just to hang out. 

The LGBT community has fallen into slacktivism.  We retweet random quotes from various celebrities about how it gets better.  We make videos saying it gets better to post on YouTube.  We march once a year in every state in colorful parades that have lost their meaning.  We sign our names to random internet petitions calling for the government to stop bullying.  And that’s pretty much where it ends. We are letting “Matt” and others like him down. 

If you want to show the next generation that it really does get better, it’s up to you to get off your duff and go out and show them how much better it got.  If your GLCC is lacking in youth activities then volunteer to start one.  If your GLCC is unwilling, maybe you have a LBGT friendly church in your area willing to help.  In today’s age of social media, it wouldn’t take too much to have a pizza and coke social at the local bowling alley.  Share your story and invite others to do the same.  Anything you do can help save one young life. 

I have made “Matt” my personal responsibility and he knows he can contact me any time if he needs to talk; I will not let him follow Jamey’s path.  I challenge the LBGT community to do the same.