An Open Letter to my (Republican) Father

I will start by saying that I do not believe in political coercion. I know there will always be people who do not have the same politics as I do, but I can't continue pretending that this issue doesn't matter to me.

Dad,

I love you, and I respect your right to your own political beliefs. I get that you are, for the most part, a fiscal conservative and socially liberal, and I think that is fine. I even agree with you on some things, though admittedly most political policies are not those things. The problem that I have is that I am a lesbian. A young lesbian woman with a long, hopefully happy life in front of her, which you have graciously and willingly provided.

Let me tell you a few things about the candidate I'm pretty sure you're voting for. Perhaps you know these things already, but I think it can be easy to write off his conservatism because he was governor of Massachusetts.

He doesn't think employers should be held accountable for firing me solely on the basis of my sexuality, which I would hope you find a little uncomfortable, since you'd like me to have a job and support myself. When he was governor of the "liberal gay paradise", Massachusetts, he supported an amendment to their constitution that would ban gay marriage, which deeply troubles me. He also supported the Federal Marriage amendment, which would have defined marriage federally as between one man and one woman.

Now, I don't frequently discuss such things with you, but I'd like to get married one day. I know I don't seem like that type of little girl, prancing around, imagining her perfect wedding, but considering my options right now, I can only imagine moving abroad or having a destination wedding. If Romney were in charge of the LGBT issues (and you would like him to have at least four years to change my life), perhaps my only option would be to reside in a foreign country, so that I would know my partner could visit me in the hospital, I could be covered under her insurance (because let's face it, I want a career in the arts, the only way I could afford health insurance would be if she had it), and I could easily start a family, knowing even if she is the biological mother, I would still have the same access to my children in the case of her death, or the dissolution of our marriage. Domestic partnership isn't the same. I hope you wouldn't try to tell me that.

Speaking of children, if I were to have any, I'd be lucky to be able to adopt or even have my name put on my child's birth certificate, if my partner was the biological parent, because Romney doesn't think gay people make suitable parents. Could you imagine not being able to legally acknowledge me as your child? Perhaps right now you'd like to, but in all seriousness, in a critical situation, or even a less than critical situation, it's necessary to have the legal documentation of parenthood.

Really, what this all comes down to is that Romney doesn't see me as a human being. To him, I must be something less, because I wouldn't be legally equal to you, to Mom, or to any heterosexual. Ryan is much of the same, if not worse. The ticket is blatant in its homophobia.

Honestly, I try not to think this way, but it seems like by voting for Romney you're telling me my relationships will never mean as much as yours, that I shouldn't have children, and that I don't deserve protection from discrimination.

You will bring up that there are other issues worth considering, like the GDP and revenues, simplifying the tax code, domestic and foreign policy.

This is why I wonder. Shouldn't your family be more important to you? If I had a chance to possibly (note that this is not a sure thing) change the country's economy for the better, but it came at the cost of your, as a person, right to vote, surely you would expect me to value your civil liberties more? Yes, four years can change a lot about the economy, but it can change an awful lot more about the way I could be allowed to lead my life. Two Supreme Court justices are probably going to change, soon, and it so happens that the Prop. 8 case, which you proudly informed me you voted no on, will be heard soon. Imagine two conservative justices then deciding that my future marriage was unconstitutional. That's not unlikely, it's frightening.

The reason that the legal discrimination against homosexuality continues is at least in some part due to the fact that people like you do not consider it a 'voting' issue. Yes, you aren't against gay marriage, but if a candidate says that they are, it doesn't affect you enough to change your vote.

Shouldn't it, though? It does affect you, directly. I am your child. Voting for someone who would gladly relegate me to second class citizenship is something I can no longer brush aside. You could send a message to your party that they are on the wrong side of this issue. You don't have to vote Democrat. Just don't vote for a party whose platform includes this. It sickens me, and it should sicken you.

Preserving and Protecting Traditional Marriage  (Top)

The institution of marriage is the foundation of civil society. Its success as an institution will determine our success as a nation. It has been proven by both experience and endless social science studies that traditional marriage is best for children. Children raised in intact married families are more likely to attend college, are physically and emotionally healthier, are less likely to use drugs or alcohol, engage in crime, or get pregnant outside of marriage. The success of marriage directly impacts the economic well-being of individuals. Furthermore, the future of marriage affects freedom. The lack of family formation not only leads to more government costs, but also to more government control over the lives of its citizens in all aspects. We recognize and honor the courageous efforts of those who bear the many burdens of parenting alone, even as we believe that marriage, the union of one man and one woman must be upheld as the national standard, a goal to stand for, encourage, and promote through laws governing marriage. We embrace the principle that all Americans should be treated with respect and dignity.

I hope you don't think I will feel like I have been treated with 'respect and dignity' if you let the Republican Party continue to eschew discrimination against me. I hope you think I am just as capable of raising children, of having a family, of loving others.

I hope you also know that I do not intend to inflict guilt. I merely have been reflecting on this troubling issue for a long time, and it truly bothers me that you cannot see how important this is.

With the added knowledge that as a resident of California, your vote for Romney is hardly counted anyway, why vote for someone, and someone's party, who would try so hard to take away so much from me?

Change is one person at a time.

I love you,

Your (more than just a lesbian) daughter.

Tattoos

I often get asked why I got my tattoos, whether it be to inquire as to what my tattoos mean or to determine why I would permanently mark my flesh, and I sometimes wonder if I really need to justify myself.

Very few things in life are 'sure', and certainly most are impermanent. The one thing that you really have with you as long as you live is you. Maybe I want more things that I get to carry with me forever.

Really, though, memories are fleeting, but I find some of them important enough to cherish forever. I guess some people would be satisfied by writing it down, but there's something kind of cathartic about having an hour, or a few hours, of numb tingling as you really reflect on why you chose that particular thing to live with you. My first tattoo commemorates my grandmother, but in a way that most people would not get. It's a memory I have, of her pointing out birds to me. For whatever reason, her identifying a red-winged blackbird to me stayed in the back of my head for years, but the idea of losing the memory was much more frightening than attaching it to me 'permanently'.

People talk about your body being 'your temple', but I think if you had a temple without any personal touches it would be kind of vacant. I don't necessarily encourage anyone to get any tattoo, because yes, your body is precious, and regrettably, people will judge you, but if what you want to get feels important, interesting, or just worth the money, why not?

Is it necessary to really care what it's going to look like when you're 70? I can't imagine most of my skin is going to look that great, so why would one patch having blurred color upset me any more than having signs of age? Memories blur and distort over time as well.

Some people also argue that because our preferences change over time, a tattoo you might initially like will become a reminder of your terrible taste as a teenager or young adult. I see it differently, however, because I think if you choose your tattoo carefully, or even poorly, you could look at it instead as a reminder of a different time in your life, a celebration of youthful joy.

Clearly this can't really apply to 'gang' tattoos, but if you grow to regret them (which may be a good thing), it could teach you to be more careful and perhaps consider the choices you make in the future.

As it is, I don't imagine ever being sad or regretting my tattoos, because they have become a part of me, and have taught me to cherish my memories and commemorate their importance permanently. I don't think there's anything wrong with that.

Bite-Size Show Reviews

Since arriving in London, I have seen seven shows, five of which were straight plays, one was a musical, and one was comedy, and I have yet to really write about any of them. Regrettably some of these won't be useful, because the shows have already closed, but I'll talk about them anyway, but only two at a time. I'm lazy like that.

The first two:


Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, starring Imelda Staunton and Michael Ball.
(This show closed September 22nd)

One of the more popular works of Sondheim's oeuvre gets a nice facelift in Jonathan Kent's version of the chilling stage musical, complete with a new set design by Anthony Ward. Set in 1920's London, and featuring an onstage "overseer", if you will, the production felt very much inspired by the original Harold Prince incarnation, but the slightly industrial feel lent an air of scientific observation to the show that felt very appropriate. The new set also abandoned the rotating box in favor of different platforms that wheeled in and out, which felt effective, though very large scale. Imelda Staunton tripped up in the beginning, vocally, but quickly recovered to a fantastic performance through the rest of the show. Michael Ball's tenor was somewhat disappointingly thin, but his sneer and impeccable acting choices made up for it. Performances from the rest of the cast were solid, though I was unhappy with James McConville's Toby, both in acting and in song, as he remained off-pitch most of the night. Overall, however, a fantastic show, which left most of what worked in the original alone, and added some interesting new choices. 4.5 stars out of 5.

Our Boys, A Play by Jonathan Lewis, with Arthur Darvill, Laurence Fox, and Matthew Lewis.
(Tickets available until December 15th)

The West End debut of Our Boys is rather star-studded, but Jonathan Lewis' play is clearly shines in this production, which brings out touching performances from all its actors. I was particularly impressed by the work of Cian Barry and Lewis Reeves, who presented solid character and excellent emotional range. David Grindley directed a funny, occasionally touching, and altogether very firm production. It's certainly pleasant to watch, and I imagine it will attract many fans of Doctor Who, Harry Potter, and Lewis, who will probably go away pleased. 3 stars out of 5.


Other than seeing lots of theatre, I've also been exploring the fun of cooking for myself (not sarcasm, I swear), which includes making curries, oven roasting pears, fajitas, homemade guacamole, and stir-frying like it's my job. Every now and then I also go to class and do homework, as well, but hey, life of a student.

Fiction: Music

      Finger after finger danced along the white and black, pounding a staccato melody that haunted the room. There was a small bead of sweat gathering at her right temple, slowly beginning its descent along the line of her jaw. Teeth clenched in anticipation of a passage and then relaxed as it flew past, drifting on the waves of sound into the rafters. Lights were shining along the gleaming, angular sides of black and reflecting colors not unlike the mood of the piece. Time crept through as if burdened by some remembered dream. Slamming through the fog of her trance-like expression came the final chords, hammering the end. The hall was caressed by the echoing notes until silence settled over the seats. Her foot slowly lifted in sync with her fingers, until there was no contact left. A single tear welled, and was quickly wiped away.

Regrets

One thing I was reflecting on earlier is that I have a tendency to replay moments and scenarios in my head and imagine how I would do them differently. This is sometimes helpful, as it helps me see who I wish to become and how I want to interact with the world, but it can also just serve to point out things I regret.

Regret is very interesting to me, because I think it implies a lack of satisfaction for where we currently are. Before I start the process of guilt and remorse, or just a bit of kicking myself, I try to remember that I wouldn't be the person I am today without making the choices I'd made in the past.

To interject a bit of why I shouldn't regret the choices I've made, I have a pretty awesome life right now. I have friends, and an active social life, I live in London, I study drama at one of the best schools for drama in the world, and I'm able to think critically about social and political issues. The regrets, however, still persist, but the ache is dulled quite a bit.

I think one of the things I regret the most is how I tend to disrespect myself and my feelings. Far from finding this to be depressing, I think of it instead as a tool to engage in changing the things about my psyche that lead to making that kind of behavior standard. Perhaps regret really is just another way to create positivity and foster important reevaluations of our position in life, and we should be grateful that we regret.

In the spirit of proving regret is useful, I will publish some poetry, because one of the things I wish I had done is produce creative writing more regularly.

The whisper of you is like a shadow
On the memories of my future
Crawling slowly over the terrain
Giving relief to the bright blindness of inexperience

I wonder how I could have changed
Created something beyond the petty quarrels
Broken promises
Missed opportunities
But I think they might have been right to say
If it was meant to be there would be no obstacles

Nothing is nothing, in that way, but nothing
Can be something beyond
Past our misjudged comments and
Empty words and accidents

A small green shoot spreads leaves upward
Basks in the sunlight of a grin
Flourishes as it expands and
Bursts into being

Only the choice gives hint at reality,
I am not my mind's tenant, forced to remember
The soft caress of recollected wrongs
Slips away on the peace of being free

Success

As a highly motivated person, I think the true secret to success is dedication. I'm sitting here not wanting to write any of this because I'm not dedicated to my own thoughts. It's a frequent struggle for me, being so driven, to watch many of my projects slip by the wayside because I'm just not willing to struggle with them for long enough to see them succeed.

I think in giving up one is technically failing to a much greater extent than if they give a full effort and do not achieve what they set out to. Perhaps this is why success is so difficult, at least at a finite level. In order to succeed you have to be willing to fail at full effort, which makes you incredibly vulnerable.

I'm not good at vulnerability. I protect myself in a plethora of ways, and it's not the best. I think that Brene Brown has the right idea:



So maybe it's the case that in order to be successful and willing to try, you really have to be willing to fail, in whatever way that means to you.

I think for me, failing would be to give up on expressing myself merely because only a few people will ever read what I have to say. Perhaps it's fear of the unknown, of loneliness, of change, even, that can make us so unwilling to expose ourselves to others, but if it was easy to bare everything and open up to others, it would no longer be as unique, special, or powerful when it does happen.

Maybe my previous definition of success needs to be revised. I think now I would say that success is to do what you love and what you desire to do, learning to embrace fear and worry as just another piece of the puzzle.

Scriptacular

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