OREGON S GAY/LESBIAN/BI/TRANS NEWSMAGAZINE
DECEMBER <1 2009
35 J(l
VOICES
Judge Not. Lest We Be Judged: A Donee Party Escape
I grew up in a cult. I did. Not your run of
the mill “strict” congregation— I’m talking
about flagrant, deranged authoritarianism.
Throughout my closeted youth, judgment
seeped into every facet of my life. The church
forbade television in homes. The same, of
course, went for radio, movies and any other
“secular” influence. In high school, I landed the
lead in a school play; pressure mounted for me
to drop out because of church conflicts. I still
see my gay former drama teacher around town
and scurry away in shame.
Church elders once held a prayer meeting
because relatives found movie stubs from a
Kevin Costner film in my jacket pocket (all be
longings are subject to rifling through). After
school, I’d frequent the local hardware store to
procure items necessary for splicing together
the T V ’s antenna cord to catch Days o f Our
Lives. Religious interventions were assembled
when my best friend’s father found my Stone
Temple Pilots C D (even Amy G rant was con
sidered a harlot). M y church held viewings for
Lon Mabon’s Oregon Citizens Alliance vid
eos. (The videos decrying gay pride festivals,
it turns out, had the opposite effect on me—I
found them enticing; I think Pentecostals still
travail around town, lamenting their loss.)
In short, I loathe judgment and I remain in
a unique position to evaluate it. A former lover
told me my (many) personality flaws should be
forgiven because of my strange past. But we all
LADY
ABOUT
TOWN
niel Bo
We spend our lives
searching for community
and acceptance; it's a
shame that some of us
make it so unwelcoming
and exclusionary once we
arrive on scene.
have our stories, especially when it comes to
finding our way into the queer community.
In regaling you with this background tale,
I have a bigger point in mind, a question: why
are we, the oppressed minority, so hard on each
other? W hy are we so keen to judge each other
and our relationships? W hy do we penetrate
circles of friends and lash out, spewing venom
on anyone who’ll hear it? We spend our lives
searching for community and acceptance; it’s a
shame that some of us make it so unwelcom
ing and exclusionary once we arrive on scene.
Perhaps we do ourselves a disservice by ex
pecting struggle when we first hit Queerland.
We see catty stares, hear cattier comments,
and are undeniably deterred. As we reach out
and break in, slowly, we feel compulsions to
act the same way as did those who “admitted”
us, like some dramatic hazing in a grand gay
fraternity. W e’re in, so now others must “suf
fer.” Eventually— hopefully—the time comes
to surround ourselves with warm, unpreten
tious queers, ones open to and up for anything.
Friendships then forge with thought and care;
shared experience proves precious.
Last Saturday night, while immersed in
a sea of beautiful dancing dykes and fags at
Gaycation— the East Side’s incomparable eve
ning each month— these musings consumed
me. Gaycation is the night that provides the
impetus to shirk any and all pretense and
judgment. Yes, much of Portland’s scene is be
coming known for this (plenty still isn’t); I’ve
probably named a half-dozen nights in previ
ous columns that are thoroughly unassuming.
Gaycation, though, stands out. It’s a place to
mix with the very best.
I fantasize about carrying the night’s
soundtrack around with me. The evening’s
mashup of music builds and builds, always
resulting in some sort o f crescendo; momen
tum seizes you and you jump up and down
and squeal (well, this lady does) when your
favorite Gossip song plays. Aside from sport
ing the brightest, friendliest queers in the city,
Gaycation annihilates every single lesbian-U-
Haul story you’ve ever heard. These aren’t your
grandma’s lesbians; these ladies dance until
the sun comes up— and their energy proves all
sorts o f contagious.
Less endearing is the service. In lieu of
lines, hundreds o f people rush the bar, crowd
ing around, screaming and waving money. It
easily takes over a half-hour to get a drink. It
seems establishing lines never occurred to^ae
staff there.
As I popped between cliques that night, I
marveled at my fortune. I came out, rejected
my church, confronted my family, and found
my gay community. I stormed past the shallow
outskirts, the periphery who stare, model and
judge. I found close friends I’ll lean on forever
and I mingle with acquaintances who never
cease to pique my curiosity. And East inde
parties like Gaycation embody the new queer
culture our community is hungry for— a big,
grand gay fraternity in which all are welcome.
West Side, you’ve long held the key to my
heart, but the East Side continues to kick your
ass— resoundingly. I t’s time to match wits and
bring it. As Beth Ditto says, “I t’s up to me and
you to prove it.” J K
*
Holocene (1001 SE Morrison) hosts the next
Gaycation on Saturday, December 19, at 9 p. m.
Arrive early; the line is notorious fo r snaking
around the block as the night wears on. What's
your preference— east or west? danielborgen@
gmail.com.
LAN U o
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