Why Is Understanding Mandatory?

Over the last few days—against my own better judgment—I've engaged others on a few friends' Facebook timelines on the subject of Trump's transgender ban earlier this week. To say that some of the responses I've gotten are disheartening is an understatement. So much fear (which leads to hatred) of that which we don't understand.

When cornered by logic, some of these respondents went radio silent, others lashed out with that underlying transphobia you knew was there the whole time bubbling under the surface. Some finally acquiesced in frustration to just "not getting the whole thing." And here's the thing: Why do we have to understand something to exhibit kindness and human decency?

I'll readily admit that I don't understand every facet of transgenderism. That's largely because I am not transgender and have therefore not experienced what it feels like to have a gender identity or gender expression that differs from my biologically assigned sex. I likely don't always get the preferred idioms correct or readily identify with every nuance of the transgender experience. But I try to learn by interacting with trans men and women, by reading more on the subject, by listening to the experiences of others. And still I don't understand every aspect of someone who is transgender.

But I don't have to. I can still choose—and make no mistake, it is a choice—to be compassionate and kind and to consider the totality of the individual with no judgement or malice. If I feel uncomfortable with some aspect of someone's gender identity or expression, that discomfort is mine and mine alone. It's based on some deep-seeded bias within me and has nothing to do with the other person. I try to push myself through that discomfort or aspect I don't understand and try to expand my mind...to try to figure out the reasons and origins of that discomfort. What I don't do is make a trans man or woman feel less than because of any shortcoming of mine. That's cowardly and morally wrong.

All human beings deserve to be loved and to be able to express love. They deserve to be treated with kindness and respect— what we've come to know as basic human decency. I may never know or fully understand what it feels like to be born into the wrong body, but I can treat people who do with empathy and compassion. It takes nothing away from me to do so. I subscribe to the philosophy of inclusive humanism, which embraces the idea that all human beings matter and deserve equal respect and dignity, regardless of geographical region, age, achievement, ability, appearance, ethnicity, religious beliefs, nonreligious beliefs, sex, sexual orientation, or gender.

This is not rocket science, folks. People are different. Some of those differences will be easy to understand and accept; others may prove more difficult based on our biases and preconceptions. Work through them...or at least try to. There are no pitfalls to doing so and an expanded world and worldview are among the many benefits.

Own Your Inner Homophobe

Michele Bachmann is, quite simply, a twat of exponential proportion. Now, before the feminists go wild, I mean that in the British sense of a derogatory insult, a pejorative meaning a fool, synonymous with the word twit and not the more vulgar euphemism for a certain part of the female anatomy. And she is. And I challenge anyone to argue the point.

All one had to do was watch Bachmann’s little performance on Sunday’s Meet the Press, during which she evaded nearly every direct question on LGBT issues raised by host David Gregory, to fully grasp this concept. Repeating what must be the new Republican mantra of “I am running for the presidency of the United States” over and over again like a stoned Stepford wife in answer to almost every question posed by the journalist, Bachmann came across looking like a bona fide caricature of America’s other favorite conservative sound bite whore, Sarah (“I can see Russia from my house!”) Palin.

But, please, don’t take my liberal-leaning word for it. Watch for yourself:



Now, setting aside for a moment the contemptibility of the few comments she did make and what her refusal to answer specific questions communicated, it’s her caginess that really irks me. Listen, if you are going to be a bigoted, gay-hating, homophobic hypocrite with a closet-case husband who runs a clinic that engages in conversion therapy (and accepts government dollars to do it), then (wo)man-up and own it. Don’t sit there with that smug little plastic grin on your face and pretend you’re getting one over on the American people – well, at least the ones with an ounce of critical thinking skills. Sadly, there will undoubtedly be a handful of supporters (from the Westboro Baptist Church, no doubt) who will buy into her shtick, but the majority of conservatives must have winced during that segment of Sunday’s show. Seriously, while I’m tickled as pink as Sherlock from The Magic Garden that someone as outrageously inept as Bachmann has sashayed onto the national stage in her Manolo Blahniks, you got to ask yourself: Is this really the best that the Republican Party has to offer?

And, just so there are no claims of partisanship on my part levied, I’ll go on record as saying this tendency of our politicos – regardless of their party affiliation – to dodge, hedge, and sidestep questions has risen to the level of an art form and needs to stop. We need to demand real answers to our real questions. Journalists need to practice journalism again and not worry about incurring future favor with the public relations machines that bring guests – and thereby ratings – to their shows. Media outlets need to worry less about making journalism sexy and bring back hard-hitting investigative reporting. Most importantly, we, as news consumers, need to stop accepting the journalistic drek that we’re fed through the mainstream network news outlets.

As for Bachmann, we needn’t worry. Even with the shortcomings of modern journalism, you can smell the excrement of her message from a mile away wearing nose plugs. Her campaign will implode once hubby Marcus is caught in a public restroom sting or the photos of him and one of his rentboy travel companions come to light or – as they always do. Or she’ll choke on her next corndog and no one at the state fair will know the Heimlich Maneuver.

Either way, this woman will never make it near the White House. Count on it.

Corndoggin' with the Bachmann's

Sometimes a picture really is worth a thousand words.