im Miller is pissed off. From the cold
war to A ID S, from “general, garden-
variety gay civil rights” to freedom of
__ expression, Miller has covered it all
in his acclaimed solo performance art
pieces of the past 20 years. O ne of the infa
mous NEA 4— four artists who had their
National Endowment for the Arts grants
revoked by the government for “indecen
cy” in 1990— Miller has found a new issue
to agitate him to action and inspire him to
performance.
“It’s just so ugly,” he says. “I don’t think
I’ve ever felt as activated or as wanting to
change this injustice. It’s much worse than
having your grants taken away and having
to take a case to the Supreme Court; it’s
much more stressful, too. Worse than hav
ing your grants taken away is having your
partner taken away.”
Miller fell in love with Alistair
McCartney, an Australian, in 1994 and
began his journey through the hazy, mad
dening world o f U .S. immigration.
Because their relationship is not recog
by
nized in this country, Miller and M cCart
ney, along with thousands of other bina
tional queer couples, have no legal rights
of partnership for immigration purposes.
Miller’s latest show, Glory Box, which
comes to Portland’s Echo Theatre on April 29,
is an exploration of his experiences as a gay
boy, then a gay man in America, and his subse
quent struggles with the second-class citizen
ship reinforced through the immigration
machine. The piece, titled with an Australian
term for hope chest, is in part a testament to
the heart’s inability to create or conform to the
borders and restrictions placed on the gay com
munity by a heterosexist culture.
As a teen-ager in Los Angeles, Miller was
inspired by autobiographical feminist perfor
mance art, which “is certainly why I do the
work I do today, seeing the narratives of our
lives as being important and bringing those
into performance,” he says. Since the mid-’80s,
Miller’s solo work has been largely autobio
graphical studies of gay America.
“I feel like there’s more than enough for
several lifetimes of any artist in exploring our
identities as lesbians and gay men," he says.
“It’s a big ol’ terrain.”
To be sure. Miller is now tackling a gay
rights subject that has barely been on the map
in the queer community but has built up
momentum and media attention of late with
the introduction of House Resolution 3650,
the Permanent Partners Immigration A ct of
2000. The bill— introduced by U.S. Rep. Jer-
rold Nadler, D-N.Y., in February and co-writ-
ten by the Lesbian and Gay Immigration
ca.... The fact is, if we’re having to leave,
what we need to talk about is why is
America so fucked up?”
Asking this question is a major inten
tion of Glory Box, which Miller calls his
best piece to date.
“Unless America grows up and starts
treating gay people like human beings,”
he insists, “I don’t want to stay and pay
taxes in a country with the human rights
violations that exist here.... The only
ethical choice, really, is to no longer give
the illusion that there are civil liberties in
the U .S. for gay people.”
Miller routinely uses his work to
inspire community action, and Glory Box
is no different.
“There’s a certain visibility I have as a
performer. I get in the media a lot,” he
explains. “I’m taught in universities for
my performances and writing; it poten
tially sends a strong signal, that I’m not
welcome as an American artist, that I’m
not welcome in my own country. That’s
about just creating a strong stance of
protest and refusal to participate in a sys
tem that’s so unbelievably unfair.”
So Tim Miller is pissed off. But, he
admits, he’s also been truly inspired by
the people he’s met on this tour.
“I’m just so moved as I meet all these hun
dreds of binational couples— the strength of
people’s commitment and their real belief in
love and connection amid the complete hostil
ity of the U.S. government,” he says.
The feeling is mutual. Glory Box is the first
performance art project about an issue that is
dominant in binational couples’ lives. Part of
the proceeds from the shows, including the
performance in Portland, are going to local
chapters of LGIRTF.
“Even if Alistair and 1 end up being forced
into exile,” concludes Miller, “it’s really been
energizing to me, the depth of queer people’s
love and commitment to each other. T h at’s
something I feel very lucky to be witnessing.”
T
Tim Miner’s
new show,
Glory Box,
proves you
can’t put
borders
on the
human
heart
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L isa B radshaw
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Rights Task Force— would amend the Immigra
tion and Nationality Act to allow queer Amer
ican citizens to sponsor their foreign partners
for entry into the United States. Currently, no
such allowance exists for same-sex couples, so
their only option is to obtain short-term educa
tional or employment-based visas, which can
be extremely restrictive and costly.
Miller’s partner is currently here on an edu
cation visa that expires next year.
“I just go ballistic,” Miller says, “when peo
ple start to talk to me about the marriage
penalty— that they, depending on their tax
return, might have to pay a few hundred dol
lars more a year. The government is costing
Alistair and I $2,000 or $3,000 a month with
his inability to work, our legal fees, out of state
tuition. We’re having to spend a minimum of
$20,000 to $30,000 extra a year on maintain
ing our relationship, because the United States
wants to destroy our relationship. That’s a
penalty.”
Because marriage and immigration issues are
inextricably linked, Miller tries to give them
equal time in Glory Box. It’s been interesting,
he says, to see a larger number of straight peo
ple attending this show than his past perfor
mances, and he attributes it to their being
alternately fascinated and freaked out by gay
marriage.
Much of the audience so far has been mar-
ried binationals. Although he acknowledges
that it’s not “their fault" they’re able to get
married and stay together without the constant
fear of being separated, he pulls no punches on
the institution of marriage itself. His value sys
tem insists on all or nothing.
“Nothing’s going to happen unless our hip-
pish straight friends start realizing the right
wing speaks for them,” Miller contends. “They
are going to have to say, ‘I won’t participate in
marriage if gay people can’t.’ I say this in the
show, and it always gets a little rush. For
straight people to get married now is shame
ful.... Even if I really care about them, I could
never go to a straight friend’s wedding, and I’m
ashamed of them that they would get married.
They know my situation— that I don’t have
the special rights they have, that I may well
have to leave the country— and they still
expect me to, like, bring them a present? Get
real.”
Leaving the United States for what Miller
calls “more civilized” countries is a choice all
binational couples eventually face. Thirteen
nations currently recognize gay relationships
for immigration purposes. Australia is one of
them, and so is England, another country in
which Miller’s partner maintains citizenship.
When asked which they would choose, Aus
tralia or England, Miller is quick to answer.
“We choose changing the laws of Ameri
■ Witness TlM MILLER in Glory Box at 8 p.m.
April 29 at Echo Theatre, 1515 S.E. 37th Ave.
Tickets are available from Gai-Pied bookstore and
Fasrixx. Tickets cost $15, or $20 with post-show
reception benefiting the Portland chapter o f
LG IR T F; tickets purchased at the door cost $3
more. For additional information, call
(503) 203-3305.
L esbian and G ay I mmigration R ights
T ask FORCE Portland chapter can be reached at
(503) 471-1568 or lgirtfpdx@hotmail.com.
LlSA B radshaw is a Portland-based free-lance
writer and agitated member o f LGIRTF.
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