Saturday, April 30, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"Pavel and Ryan"
Watercolor
Steven Clayton Corry

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 638"

"If You Let It, Love Makes You Happy..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.



Friday, April 29, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"Time Square Kiss"
Acrylic on canvas
Joe Phillips

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 638"

"If You Let It, Love Makes You Happy..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"Still Life"
Acrylic
Unknown

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 637"

"Love Is The Only Way To Know Closeness..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

"Sometimes In Advertising..." America


Brothers...? or Lovers...?  Who Cares!

"The Artist's Corner"

"Man In The Mirror"
Acrylic on canvas
Michael Leonard

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 636"

"The Heart Is The Home Of Love And Love Is The Heart Of Home..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"The Torment of Saint Leodegarius"
Mixed media
Kevin Raye Larsin

"A Love Song..."

"All of My Life"
Roger Whittaker

For my husband, Eddie

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 635"

"When There Is Love, There Is Peace, Comfort and Safety..."

Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Monday, April 25, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"Reflections"
Acrylic on canvas
Kenneth Landon Buck

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 634"

"To Love Is To Be In The World Together..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

"This Made Me Smile..."


Actually, my husband Eddie found this gem and he's right, it's hilarious!

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 633"

"When Love Comes There's Happiness..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"The Artist's Corner"

"The Cleaners"
Acrylic on canvas
Steve Walker

Friday, April 22, 2011

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 632"

"Love Is The Only Reason That Matters..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"The Artist's Corner"

"Across the Universe"
Acrylic on canvas
Steve Walker

Thursday, April 21, 2011

"A Thought To Ponder..."


"A coward is incapable of exhibiting love; it is the prerogative of the brave."

- Mahatma Gandhi

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 631"

"Let Your Love Show And You'll Know What I Mean..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"The Artist's Corner"

"Beautiful Captive"
Acrylic on canvas
Daniel Skinner

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 630"

"Together In The World... Together In Love"


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"The Artist's Corner"

"The Pickup"
Acrylic on canvas
Robert Shearer

"The Imitation of Life..."

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"Pandora"
Oil on canvas
Eric Gibbon

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 629"

"Young Love Is Sweet..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Monday, April 18, 2011

"A Thought To Ponder..."

"Anyone can be passionate, but it takes real lovers to be silly."

- Rose Franken

"The Artist's Corner"

"The Valet"
Acrylic on canvas
David Thompson

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 628"

"Love Is Truth.. And Truth is Beauty."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.


Sunday, April 17, 2011

"The Artist's Corner"

"The Temptation"
Mixed Media
Daniel Skinner

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 627"

"These Are The Days You Dream Of...Love And Happiness"


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"This Is The Face Of Bravery..."

The Unlikely Prophet

Brigham Young University student Cary Crall talks about the letter that led to his selection as one of The Advocate’s Forty Under 40 and discusses his what he calls his “keen sense of injustice.”






By Winston Gieseke
April 13, 2011
Brigham Young University student Cary Crall had always been very religious and a leader among his peers in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. But when the church began a heated campaign to pass California’s Proposition 8, the self-identified “Moho” (Mormon homosexual), whose family goes back in direct line to the church’s founder, Joseph Smith, found himself conflicted.

Following Perry v. Schwarzenegger, the lawsuit challenging the anti–marriage equality proposition, Crall discovered that many of the church’s arguments against same-sex marriage either didn’t hold up during the trial or weren’t even presented. Wanting to shed light on the subject, he wrote an editorial that was published last September in BYU’s campus newspaper, the Daily Universe, which concluded that “the real reason [church members supported Prop. 8] is that a man who most of us believe is a prophet of God told us to support the amendment.” His piece lasted a few hours online before the paper took it down, claiming readers had found it offensive.

The Advocate: When did you first become aware of the church’s involvement in Prop. 8?

Cary Crall: I had just gotten back from my LDS mission in July of 2008 and they talked about it in church, about how the church would be involved.

How the church would be involved — meaning, “We’re taking this course of action”?

Sure. There was a message read in the Sacrament Meetings, the main meeting of the LDS church service. It said, “There’s this legislation, Proposition 8”— and this came from the first presidency of the church, which includes the Mormon prophet and his two counselors — and it said, “There’s this legislation, and we believe marriage is between a man and a woman, and we ask that you use all of your time and means to support this ordinance and help it pass.”

They always say they never told anyone how to vote, and they didn’t in so many words. But they said “Do all you can to get this to pass.” I don’t know how that’s not an endorsement of how to vote.

Where were you in terms of your sexuality at this point? Were you out to anyone? Were you out to yourself?

I knew I was gay. My parents knew I was gay. And a few close friends. But I thought I would either find a way to make things work with a woman, get married, have a family, and be LDS — or I would be celibate my entire life.

Before you go on an LDS mission, you go through the Mormon Temple. And part of going to the temple is making covenants with God. One of the things you promise is the law of chastity, which says you’ll only have sexual relations with your wife, if you’re a man, and no one else for the rest of your life. So I felt like I had already made that promise when I was 19, and it felt very binding.

How did your parents respond when they found out you were gay?

They responded well. They had some inklings from when I was younger. Gay boys will get different things on the computer than straight boys. [Laughs]

I actually think the LDS church is not as bad as some other churches in how they deal with homosexuality because the LDS church has been explicit — at least since I’ve been growing up — that having homosexual feelings is not in and of itself sinful. And because of that, my parents didn’t think I was evil, but I think they felt as if they had failed early on. If you go to a counseling service sponsored through the church, a lot of the theories espoused as to causation of homosexuality have to do with distant father, overbearing mother, things about sexual abuse — and that’s the paradigm they were looking at.

But my mom has always been very loving and tried to understand what I go through. She’s supportive of me. My dad is a very laid-back, easygoing man. He wasn’t raised LDS, but the Mormon Church is kind of his first family. He’s expressed how he loves me.

Did you attend any pro-Prop. 8 rallies?

No. During that summer [following my work as a missionary], I mainly went to church and to church meetings. You have meetings throughout the week, kind of like a youth group, where we were spoken to by someone in our congregation and given the kind of the slippery slope argument supporting Proposition 8. We were told that we would be organized and going door-to-door, talking to people about it. It was part of a church meeting, but it was very political.

How did all of this make you feel?

I felt terrible. And it definitely gave people around me the chance to be homophobic. Mormons are typically really nice people. They don’t like to be looked at as being mean, but it unleashed some of the latent meanness that was inside some people. And it made it so that my homosexuality, which I had hoped to just diminish and not have at the forefront of my mind, was always there. Because it was the main issue being talked about.

What prompted you to write your editorial for the Daily Universe?

I felt like my fellow students at BYU were very smug in their position on Prop. 8, as if their views were supported not just by their religious beliefs but by studies and science. And after the trial I read Judge [Vaughn] Walker’s decision — the entire thing — and saw how there weren’t experts willing to testify to the things that these people were considering true. There was no real support for these “rational” arguments for Prop. 8. And I wanted to just point that out. And also to say, “Even if you were to read these studies and see that there’s no support, you would still support the amendment because of your belief in the LDS prophet. And you should be honest about your motives. You’re a Mormon person, you believe in being honest, and you’re not.”

Had you done any activism prior to this?

Soulforce had come to my campus my freshman year, and it took all the courage I could muster just to go to their rally. That is the most I’d been involved in any sort of activism before this point. And it was scary. One of the things I was dealing with was finally talking with church leaders about my homosexuality and trying to figure out if that would keep me from being a missionary. And ultimately, they decided, “As long as you can control your feelings, you’re fine.” But the Soulforce people could, of course, see right through me. They all understood that I was this closeted person who was very conflicted because of my religion. And it was very difficult to deal with because I was trying so hard not to appear gay. [Laughs]

Weren’t you concerned that putting your name on an editorial challenging Prop. 8 would clue people in?

I was aware that that was a possibility. But there are people at BYU who are completely impervious to the idea that people around them are gay. It’s like if you don’t believe in ghosts, all sorts of weird things can happen around you and you’ll never call it “seeing a ghost.” But as soon as you’ve seen one, everything looks like a ghost. I think that’s how a lot of kids at BYU are: Their friends are so gay, but they never put it together until one of them comes out, and then they realize how many people around them are gay.

What sort of response did your piece get?

I was actually expecting a little more negative feedback than I got. But because the Daily Universe pulled my letter, there were no letters of rebuttal published against it, so I only got a few private Facebook messages from people who disapproved. You told a reporter last year, “I will be interested to see how the appeals go. If new information is presented that contradicts my viewpoint, I will gladly change my mind.” Did you really think that was a possibility?

That statement was about this: I feel the big problem is that people are not being reasonable on this issue. A reasonable person by definition changes their view when information that contradicts their view is presented. And I was trying to live the Golden Rule on that point. Just as I was calling out for other people to be reasonable, I was trying to show that I also would be reasonable.

[Before the trial] I thought maybe there was some great study, that an expert would be willing to testify to the fact that children raised by gay couples actually are less well-adjusted. But that’s what really got me going: There were no experts willing to testify to any of the things that I had been presented with during the campaign as reasons to support Prop. 8. Their “expert witnesses” dropped out, and the ones who did testify weren’t really experts in their field and were completely discredited. And I just knew that no one on my campus paid attention to this issue.

You’re now working to get housing and employment nondiscrimination ordinances passed in Provo.

This is something I’m very excited about because in the aftermath of Prop. 8, the LDS church issued a statement saying that they supported gay and lesbian rights and thought [LGBT people] should be protected — they had just wanted to protect marriage. And they were kind of taken to task for that. Some of the Democrats from the Utah legislature tried to pass a nondiscrimination bill and asked the church to support it. And initially the church did not. But when the city of Salt Lake went to pass the ordinance, they did a good job of courting the church’s public affairs and were able to get a statement from the church saying they supported it. And that made all the difference for Utah. That ordinance is now passed in 10 communities throughout the state.

My community [Provo] is the most conservative. I have a friend who was fired from his job here in Utah County because he was gay. He was working as a youth theater director for a summer camp, and when some of the parents found out about his orientation they started pulling their kids out of the program and he was fired. It was a really tough thing for him to deal with.

We targeted the city council members, starting with an e-mail campaign. Then we started calling individual members. We have a few who’ve been very excited in support, but most have been dragging their feet. So, really, we’re just fighting inertia. There’s a state senator, Ben McAdams, who’s a real hero. He’s a straight LDS man who really champions gay rights in Utah, and he’s trying to get it passed in the state legislature. And he feels like if it passes in Utah County, it will inevitably pass in the state legislature for all of Utah. Which is something to really be proud of.

What’s next for you?

I’ll be attending medical school in the fall.

Will you be doing any more activism?

Of course. When being Mormon was my primary identity, I was very Mormon. And I would defend my church publicly. As being gay is more and more incorporated into my identity, I feel that I will be the same way for the gay community. I have a keen sense of injustice. If I ever feel like something is unfair, it bothers me to no end. And I need to feel like I’m doing something to correct it. I don’t have any specific projects with targets on them, but I will definitely be involved if I see a need. I have the confidence that any small effort by an individual can make a big difference, because I’ve seen it.
 
 
********
 
"A life lived in fear is a life half-lived..."

Saturday, April 16, 2011

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 626"

"Love Is The Truest Intimacy..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"And, The Truth Shall Set You Free..."

"You can hear me now..."

As reported in an article in The Atlantic, Verizon's famous pitchman, actor Paul Marcarelli is finally free to talk about himself and the role he played in Verizon's advertisements for the last nine years...  Although it was a great opportunity, it wasn't without its pitfalls, especially when he had to confront homophobia:
Then there were the drive-bys. Marcarelli has a home in Guilford, Connecticut, and five summers ago, kids in an SUV began driving past at night, yelling, “Can you hear me now?” Later, says Marcarelli, “they started screaming ‘faggot’ up at my house. It got progressively more profane as the years went by.” One night, it happened while some friends were over, and he decided to call the police. “As soon as I hung up the phone,” he says, “I realized that in order for them to do anything about it, it would have to become a report that would go into a police log.” Worried about the publicity—and the questions that might ensue if it came out that the actor playing Test Man was gay—he declined to file a report.

In retrospect, Marcarelli thinks his silence during the Test Man years was largely self-imposed. “I definitely think that my reticence to have any kind of persona outside of this job was that I didn’t want to be put in a position to have to answer any uncomfortable question that would affect my income stream. And I never tested it, so I don’t know.”

*******
 
"Fear Eats the Soul"

"The Artist's Corner"

"The Death of Love"
Oil on canvas
Arantzazu Martinez

Friday, April 15, 2011

"And, The Truth Shall Set You Free..."


"Fear Eats the Soul"

"The Artist's Corner"

"Captain John Smith and Friend"
Mixed media
Daniel Skinner

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 625"

"Its Only Paradise Because There's Love..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"The Truth About Love..."

"Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we cannot live within."
- James Baldwin

Thursday, April 14, 2011

"Because Fear Eats the Soul..."


John Bosco, Gay Ugandan

'Why was I born gay in Africa?'
The experience of two gay refugees from Uganda, where violent homophobia is state policy






Elizabeth Day
March 27, 2011

As a child in Uganda, John Bosco remembers hearing an old wives' tale that if a man fell asleep in the sun and it crossed over him, he would wake up as a woman. "I used to try that as a kid," says John now, some 30 years later. He sits at a table in a busy cafe across the road from the railway station in Southampton, his fingers playing with the handle of a glass of hot chocolate. "I'd spend all day lying under the sun. From childhood, I wanted to be a girl. I wanted dolls. At school, I played netball. I wanted to dress up like a girl … I rubbed herbs into my chest that were meant to make your breasts grow. I tried everything but it didn't work."

He tells me that there was not one single moment when he realised he was gay; that the knowledge of it had always been there, unexpressed until he found the right words. As he grew older, John started being attracted to men. On the radio, he heard stories of gay couples being beaten and killed by police. He says that if he could have changed himself, he would because he so desperately wanted to be considered "normal", to fit in, to make his family proud.

When he went to university to study for a business administration degree, his relatives and neighbours in Kampala would ask why he never had a girlfriend. "I used lots of excuses – I'm not yet ready, or I have a girlfriend who doesn't live in the same area," he says. "It was difficult because you cannot be open [about your sexuality]. You can't socialise like any other person. A lot of the time, you have to keep your distance. You feel you're not yourself. It makes things really hard."

This is the reality of being gay in modern Uganda, a place where homosexuality is criminalised under the penal code, punishable by life imprisonment. According to human rights organisations, about 500,000 homosexuals live in the country, unable to admit their sexuality for fear of violent retribution either from the police or their own communities. Anti-gay legislation is a relic of British colonialism, designed to punish what the imperial authorities thought of as "unnatural sex" – thinking that was subsequently reinforced by wave upon wave of Catholic missionaries.

Although much of that legacy has been dismantled as Uganda modernises, homophobia is as entrenched as ever. An anti-homosexuality bill, due to be discussed by parliament before June, advocates the death penalty for "aggravated homosexuality" –ie for gay people with HIV practising sex, or gay people who have sex with someone under 18. Known colloquially as the "kill the gays" bill, it would also make it a crime not to report someone you know to be a practising homosexual, thereby putting parents, siblings and friends at risk.

"One of the things the Ugandans say is that being gay is European culture, that it is un-African," explains John, 31. "There is this idea that Europeans and Americans are recruiting people to be gay, giving them money to do it."

Last October, the now defunct anti-gay Ugandan tabloid Rolling Stone published a list of the country's "top 100" homosexuals under the headline "Hang Them". In January, the prominent gay-rights activist David Kato was murdered – beaten to death in his home by a hammer-wielding thug. Gays, lesbians and transgendered people in Uganda face harassment, extortion, vandalism, death threats and violence on a daily basis. They can be sacked from employment if they are outed, forced to enter into heterosexual marriage and detained by the authorities without charge or access to legal defence. In some of the worst cases, they can be subjected to so-called "correctional rape".

It is not only Uganda – for years, the developed world has turned a blind eye to the state-sanctioned persecution of homosexuals that exists in 38 out of 53 African nations, according to Human Rights Watch. Now, a new feature-length documentary film seeks to redress the balance. Getting Out, directed by film-maker Alexandra Chapman in conjunction with Christian Aid, tells the story of the gay refugees who are forced to flee discrimination in their own countries.

"It is very important for people in the west to understand that legalised and state-sanctioned homophobia is a reality in many parts of Africa," says Dr Chris Dolan, director of the Refugee Law Project at Makerere University in Kampala, who was instrumental in the making of the film. Dolan, who campaigns extensively to protect the rights of beleaguered minorities in this corner of Africa, says that the political climate in Uganda "enables a wide range of abuses and violations that seriously diminish the quality of life of all lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and intersex persons, most of whom seek to stay under the public radar. It also places many such persons in serious and extreme danger."

For John, the danger soon became too great to ignore. At his university freshers' ball, he met and fell in love with a man called Aziz. The two of them were discreet, taking care not to be seen acting too intimately in public. In this way – never quite being honest, living in the half-shadows, always looking over their shoulders – their relationship continued after graduation when John took a well-paid job in a bank. When John first took Aziz home to visit his family, he was introduced as "my best friend. He became like another son to my mum. That was the way it was until 2001."

Then everything changed. A group of John's gay friends were arrested in a police crackdown. They were beaten and forced to give the names of other gay people they knew. John realised he had to get out. "I had to disappear," he says. "I had some money saved up so I paid a private agency to get me a visa, a passport … I didn't tell anybody I was leaving, not even my family. At first, I didn't know where I was going. But then, luckily, the guy gave me a visa to the UK."

John Bosco did not know it then, but his problems were only just beginning.

Florence Kizza smiles a lot. She has a sharp, pretty face with slanted eyes and straight, white teeth. When she talks, she does so in an even, clear voice, her faint Ugandan accent lending the words an irregular rhythm. We meet in a cafe in Richmond, Surrey, near to where she works as a bank clerk. Although the story she tells me is a horrific one, Florence does not show emotion as she recounts it, beyond a slight narrowing of the eyes, a glance to one side, a short pause in her narrative. She explains that to break down and cry would be to give into something she needs to resist. Because Florence is a woman who defines herself by her survival.

Florence is 32, Ugandan and a lesbian. She grew up in Najjanankumbi, on the southern edge of Kampala, the daughter of a prosperous businessman who sent Florence and her sister to a prestigious girls' boarding school.

"I kind of knew [about my sexuality] at school, but those things you don't talk about," she says. "It's something you never breathe out loud. I was brought up a Catholic. Every day, these pastors are preaching that a gay person should be stoned to death, that they should die. If you heard that, would you be open?"

When Florence was 16, both of her parents died of Aids within a year of each other. Florence was taken out of school and raised by relatives. The older she got, the more certain she became that she was gay. Lonely and increasingly isolated, she craved companionship. And then, buying food at the market one day, she met a woman called Susan, from the west of the country. "She spoke a different language," says Florence, "but we just connected. We went for coffee, we talked and then we met up five more times." Gradually, the two of them became closer but, like John Bosco, they were careful about how they acted together in public. Florence continued to live alone. Still, the fact that she was a woman of marriageable age without a husband aroused the suspicion of the local community.

In December 2000, neighbours broke into her house and found her in bed with Susan. The villagers stripped the two women naked, paraded them through the streets and then beat them in front of a baying crowd. "To say it was painful is an understatement," says Florence now. "You can take being hit but being humiliated around God knows how many people – you lose your dignity. I felt, I wish I could die now."

Banished from her village, Florence was forced to find somewhere else to stay. She spent the nights at Susan's home, waking up early each morning to sneak out under cover of darkness. But however cautious she tried to be, it was never enough. In March 2001, Florence was arrested and, over a three-day period, was beaten and raped by three policemen at gunpoint. The assault was so ferocious that, 10 years on, Florence still bears the scars. It is cold when we meet and Florence is wearing a long-sleeved zip-up sweatshirt but, even in the milder weather, she does not like to show the twisted ridges of skin that snake all the way up her arms.

"Looking back, I think the police officers found me very challenging," Florence says, and she half-closes her eyelids, as though squinting to make out a murky, distant shape. "There was a time when one of them hit me on the second day and I looked at him and I didn't cry. I looked very, very calm. I told him: 'Have you finished? It doesn't hurt,' and I laughed." She looks up, meeting my gaze. "And he stopped."

On the third day, Florence escaped when one of the policemen fell into a drunken stupor and she was able to steal the keys to her cell. She ran out into the streets and got a taxi to a friend's house. She knew she had to get out of the country before the police tracked her down. She and Susan fled across the border to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. There, they paid a human trafficker to take them to the UK. "He said, OK, you have to pay a very big price. He asked for £20,000. I had to give up one of my dad's plots of land as security."

At the last minute, the trafficker said it was too dangerous for both Florence and Susan to travel at the same time. "He said, it's one person, you choose. I said Susan should go because I was feeling ill, I didn't have the energy. But they said I should go because my health was bad and I was the worst off."

In September 2001, Florence flew to the UK and was taken by the trafficker to a B&B in Wembley, north London. He gave her a £50 note and left her there. At the age of 22, Florence was on her own in a sprawling foreign city with little money and no prospects. For days, she walked the streets, unsure of what to do or who to turn to. After her experiences in Uganda, she looked at everyone with mistrust and suspicion. She had to beg for money for food.

A man from a local church group eventually took her to the Home Office to seek refugee status but Florence was deeply intimidated by the interview process. "Basically, I didn't trust authorities because of the bad experiences I had with them in Uganda," says Florence. "The interviews were degrading. They would ask me to talk about my personal life, to explain how I had sex. The way they looked at me, I just thought, Jesus Christ, am I this disgusting? Honestly, I was so angry. They just had no idea."

Already suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and depression, Florence's symptoms got worse the further she travelled through the UK appeals system. Her initial application to stay was refused, on the grounds that she would be safe if she returned to Uganda, relocated to a different area of the country and acted "discreetly".

According to Erin Power, the group manager of the UK Lesbian and Gay Immigration Group, a large part of the problem for gay Ugandan refugees is an unwillingness to talk openly about a sexual identity that they have had to keep secret all their lives, often even from themselves. "If they do what they're supposed to do and approach the Home Office as soon as they land in the UK, you're asking them to go up to a figure of authority in a uniform and tell them they're gay," says Power. "But that is the person who, in their country, will persecute them for speaking openly.

"We have clients who have never said they're gay before. The idea that they can identify themselves is problematic because often they have kept it secret all their lives … Some clients have never had sex, but we argue that being LGBT is not about who you have sex with, it's about who you are and what your identity is. We've struggled to get the Home Office not to focus on sex. Up till now you've had to prove two things: one, that you're gay or lesbian and two, that your country's dangerous."

How do you prove you're gay? Power laughs. "Everyone always asks that."

John Bosco was facing similar problems in a different part of town. Having arrived in London with £600, John found a room to rent in Manor Park, north London. "I thought, if I can get to an English-speaking country, I'll be OK. As soon as I get there, I can get a job because I have qualifications. I didn't know the asylum system at all."

When he tried to apply for jobs, he was told he needed a national insurance number. "I didn't know what it was," says John. Eventually, a group of Jamaicans he met on the street directed him to the UK Border Agency offices in Croydon. But instead of what he thought would be a straightforward interview, John says he was stripped naked, asked for his fingerprints, bundled into a van and taken to the Oakington immigration detention centre in Cambridgeshire.

Here, he spoke to the authorities through a translator, but the interpreter was from a different part of Uganda and did not speak the same tribal language so John's statement was littered with inconsistencies. John, terrified as to how the UK authorities might react, did not tell them that he was gay and that this was the real reason he had fled Uganda. "They asked me if I wanted a solicitor," he says now, shaking his head. "I didn't know what this word meant."

Failing to make himself understood or to provide a consistent story to explain his refugee status ended up costing John dearly. From Oakington, he was taken to Haslar, an immigration removal centre run by the prison service in Portsmouth. For the first few weeks, he had no change of clothes and had to wash his single pair of underpants every day. When a local volunteer visited him to ask if he needed any help, John finally confessed everything.

"When she asked me, 'Why did you leave?' I said because of my sexuality. She said: 'That's OK, that's not a problem.' I had to sit back like this." He leans back in his cafe chair, crossing his arms over his chest with an expression of shock in his eyes. "I was shivering. I'd never had anyone talk to me like that. She was the first person I'd ever told about my sexuality and she was nice to me." He breaks off, bows his head and rapidly wipes his eyes.

After four months in Haslar, John was given leave to stay in the UK but the Home Office appealed against the decision. For the next six years, from 2002 to 2008, John's life became an exhausting cycle of legal battles. He got a job working at a mental health charity in Southampton and poured £21,000 of his own money into solicitors' fees. In 2008, during a routine visit to the police station (the terms of his leave to remain in the country required that he report to the police once a month), he was manhandled into a van, taken to the airport and put on a flight back to Uganda.

"I was thinking, just kill me. I have no friends, no relatives, nothing. How long is this going to go on? I'm not going to change myself to be accepted."

As with Florence Kizza, the judge in charge of his case had decided that John would face no immediate danger if he returned to Uganda, changed his behaviour and moved to a different part of the country to live "discreetly". This was in spite of the fact that John's photograph had been printed on the front page of a national newspaper in Uganda only a few weeks before he was deported. Living discreetly was just about the last thing he could do.

Within days of touching down in Kampala, John was arrested. The police threw him into a cell with several other inmates and subjected him to regular beatings. "The beatings are not something you can say you get used to," he says now. "It's something you expect."

He bribed the police to release him with the little money he had left and went into hiding for six months. In the end, his solicitors won him refugee status for five years and he was flown back to the UK. But the leave expires in 2014 and John still lives in a state of anxious uncertainty, isolated from his family, friends and his former boyfriend Aziz, all of whom he has found it impossible to trace.

"I have bad dreams still: people chasing me, being beaten up," he says. "Sometimes I sleep and then I think, what will happen after 2014? All I want is freedom, where I can be who I am."

Florence was granted permanent refugee status last year. Since leaving Uganda, she has completed a degree in business management at Kingston University. For a while she worked for a supermarket; now she has a job in the offices of a high-street bank in Twickenham, London. She never heard from her girlfriend Susan again. "We tried really hard to locate her," she says, her voice drained of emotion. "I think I'm getting used to it."

In July 2010, the UK's Supreme Court categorically denounced the "discretion reasoning" that had been central to the rejection of both Florence's and John's refugee claims, ruling that the decision failed to recognise the human rights of homosexuals and breached the UN refugee convention. The Home Office has since produced a set of guidelines, in consultation with asylum groups, on how to assess the validity of such claims, and all senior case-workers have been put through a one-day training session on the connected issues. "That process finished at the end of February," says Erin Power, "so we don't know what the outcome will be. Obviously we hope there will be some improvement because some of the interviewing was horrific, quite honestly."

Back in the cafe in Southampton, John's hot chocolate has gone cold. He says he misses his family "all the time" and does not have much of a social life, feeling too black to be fully welcomed by the predominantly white gay community in this part of the world, and too gay to be fully accepted by the straight people he meets. He spends most of his evenings and weekends in a rented room watching TV soaps. "Calling the memories back stresses me out," he says, at the end of our conversation. "But the reason I do it is because if I don't, people won't understand what is happening, especially the people in Uganda who do not have a voice. The only way they will understand is for me to tell you about it."

As he pushes his chair neatly under the table, he says that he is plagued by two questions. "I ask myself all the time, why was I born gay? And if I was born gay, why was I born in Africa?"

He leaves, letting the cafe door slide silently shut behind him, turning back to give me a wave and a smile through the window as he goes. Perhaps there will never be an answer. But for now, at least, John Bosco is free to pose the questions out loud.


Getting Out will be shown on Friday 15 April at 7pm at The Frontline Club, 13 Norfolk Place, London W2 1QJ. Tickets are free but space is limited. To reserve a seat email admin@uklgig.org.uk

*******

"Fear Eats the Soul"

"The Artist's Corner"

"Hommes s'embrassant"
Pastel on canvas
Yvon Goulet

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 624"

"Love, Like Dance, Requires Practice..."



Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

"I Am Normal..."



"Thirteen or so minutes"
A short film

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 623"


"It Wasn't Easy To Be In Love Back Then..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

"The Artist's Corner"

"Snow White"
Acrylic on canvas
Daniel Skinner

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 622"


"Love Knows Only Its Own Time..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Monday, April 11, 2011

"A Trip For The Sake Of Love..."


I've worked in Canada and spent a good deal of time there and I know her people well.  So with that said, there are many reasons to love Canada, but the best reason became real for Eddie and I on Friday when he and I were legally married there.

Windsor, Ontario, Canada is Detroit's smaller, cleaner, friendlier neighbor on the Detroit River.  Just over 5,600 feet separate the two cities but they are a world apart and a country apart in terms of freedom and justice for all people.  Same-sex marriage has been legal throughout Canada since July 20, 2005, when with the enactment of the Marriage Act, Canada became the 4th nation in the world to recognize that "love is love..."

If I weren't an American, I'd hope to be lucky enough to be a Canadian... In so many ways they "get it right."  They understand what freedom and civility and justice is all about.  Although you need a passport or other approved documents to travel to Canada, it's not to get in, they happily welcome almost everyone, you need it to get back into the U.S.

Friday morning, Eddie, Mark and I set off for Windsor via the Detroit Windsor tunnel, the world's first underwater tunnel connecting two countries.  When there's not much traffic it takes about three minutes to drive under the river and arrive in beautiful downtown Windsor.  Since we were leery about traffic and had a 9:15 ceremony booked, we left way early. 

We got to Windsor City Hall with more than an hour and a half to spare, so we set out for a cup of coffee and a bite to eat.  Our wedding day breakfast turned out to be at McDonalds just up the street from City Hall and the tunnel entrance.  Eddie and I, "suited up" and wearing matching silk bow ties attracted a little attention when we walked into the restaurant.

When we got up to the counter to place our order, in typical Canadian fashion, the server was very friendly and commented on our attire.  She asked if we were going to a wedding, I said, "Yes!"  She asked if we were in the wedding party and I said, "Yes, We're the grooms!" and with that said, everyone behind the counter offered their congratulations and well wishes.  It was a wonderful feeling to be recognized so openly and warmly.  Other patrons in the dining room all smiled and nodded and although we were nervously anticipating our big moment, we also felt at ease and free to be proud of our love and the commitment we were making to one another.

After breakfast, we made our way back to City Hall and although we had a minor hiccup, (a funny story that ended well) everything went off beautifully.  Even our Justice of the Peace was a same-gender loving woman in a cross-border relationship with an American woman.  After the ceremony, she gave us some helpful tips and pointers on dealing with U.S. Border agents when traveling together.

All in all, it was a day that made us happy, united us in love and proved to us beyond any doubt that...

"A life lived in fear is a life half-lived"

"Same Gender Loving People - No. 621"


"It Wasn't Easy To Be In Love Back Then..."


Positive images of people like me... The truth of the matter is that we all need to see people like ourselves. So everyday, I'll post a photo, drawing or some other artwork that depicts Same Gender Loving People as what we are... Only Human.

Adam and Andy No. 6




Find more postings of this great comic at: adamandandy.com

"An Evening To Remember..."

Our wedding reception on Saturday was truly an evening to remember... We had a cocktail reception for about 20 family and friends at one of my (and now Eddie's) favorite restaurants; Maggiano's in Troy, Michigan (about 20 minutes north of Detroit).

In addition to a full selection open bar featuring premium liquors, imported and domestic beers and wines, we served the following menu to our guests:

- On the Buffet Table -

Four-Cheese Ravioli with Pesto Alfredo Sauce

Fresh Vegetable Crudité with Bleu Cheese Dip

Italian Meatballs

- Passed Hors d'Oeuvres -

Spinach Gorgonzola Crostini

Chicken Saltimbocca Roulade

Miniature Stuffed Mushrooms

Bruschetta

Smoked Salmon Napoleons

As a take home gift for our family and friends, instead of a traditional wedding cake, I made hand-decorated cupcakes seated in squares of red tulle fabric in a decorated box tied in a silver ribbon with a miniature rose bouquet.  They were a huge hit with our guests. 

The beautiful floral arrangements were made by Eddie and at the end of the evening they were also a gift to take home for some of our lady friends.

Although we'd planned on a two hour reception, our guests were having such a great time, we extended it an extra hour and a half, which the restaurant graciously accommodated for us... I love Maggiano's.

It was an evening to remember and one that turned out to be far better than anything I'd ever imagined.

"A life lived in fear is a life half-lived..."