LGBT

Don’t call me righty

Why do leftist academics treat everyone who doesn't kowtow to their dogma as a flaming right-winger?

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It is a truth universally acknowledged among lefty professorial types that every so often someone crosses their paths whom they expect, for one demographic reason or another, to share their ideology down to the last jot and tittle, but who turns out, to their surprise, to be located elsewhere on the political spectrum.

The perennial academic fascination with this mysterious and disquieting phenomenon has now spawned a book entitled “Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner Now? Multicultural Conservatism in America.” The author, Angela D. Dillard, who teaches history and politics at New York University, explains in her preface that the phrase “multicultural conservative” — by which she means a conservative who is black, Latino, female or gay (and sometimes Asian) — “began as something of a joke during a dinner party given by a close friend. I was regaling the company with stories and anecdotes uncovered while doing preliminary research for this book and was delighted by their confused and often horrified expressions.”

Thus does Dillard — whose book, by the way, contains not a single anecdote that would confuse or horrify a reasonably educated common reader — let us know precisely what territory she’s setting us down in. It’s the heart of Academic Country, where the very existence of conservatives who are not straight white males can indeed generate horror and confusion (or, alternatively, amusement, perhaps bordering on clinical hysteria), and where, as surely as a multiplicity of genders, skin colors, ethnic backgrounds and sexual orientations is the collective dream, a multiplicity of viewpoints is the collective nightmare.

One might have expected Dillard’s book to be a savage attack — a jeremiad that took on conservative ideas one by one and tore them to shreds. But Dillard, who frequently goes out of her way to remind us how much of an effort she’s making to be careful and objective, to “listen attentively to the voices of minority conservatives,” does an extraordinary job of avoiding any extended engagement with those conservatives’ actual ideas. What she does instead — in addition to offering up large dollops of historical background — is to soft-pedal ideas and emphasize personal stories.

This emphasis has patently dictated her choice of persons to highlight: Though high-profile political figures like Alan Keyes, Phyllis Schlafly, Linda Chavez and Clarence Thomas wander through these pages, Dillard devotes particular attention to “minority conservatives” who have written memoirs, or whose books contain autobiographical material, which she focuses on to the near-total exclusion of other content. By concentrating on such works — among them Stephen Carter’s “Reflections of an Affirmative Action Baby,” Ward Connerly’s “Creating Equal,” Mel White’s “Stranger at the Gate” and something called “Pimps, Whores, and Welfare Brats: From Welfare Cheat to Conservative Messenger” by one Star Parker — Dillard enables herself to conclude that minority conservatives are overly preoccupied with their own experiences, and that they “jump too quickly from the particular to the universal; the ‘I’ slides too easily into the ‘we.’”

This, she claims, is a consequence of the lamentable and misguided conservative fixation on the individual — and it illustrates the superiority of leftists’ emphasis on the group. (Naturally, she ignores the enthusiasm of left-wing academics for such pious, if sometimes notoriously unreliable, works of personal testimony as “I, Rigoberta Menchu.”) In a classic bit of doublethink, she refers to “the conservative desire to silence irreducibly different collectivities in the name of a constrictive and artificially singular American identity” — thereby elegantly equating individual liberty with oppression and enforced groupthink with variety.

One of Dillard’s hobbyhorses in this meandering volume is that “minority conservatives” have been “awarded enormous access to the corridors of power and the byways of public opinion.” Yet surely the scandal lies not in the fact that the media sometimes welcome a diversity of views but in the fact that the academy (Dillard’s own institution) almost never does. Indeed, the near-absolute exclusion from humanities faculties of those who dissent from academic orthodoxy is one of the cultural outrages of our time. The issue could hardly be more germane to Dillard’s topic — yet she, needless to say, doesn’t go anywhere near it.

Dillard’s principal interest is clearly in African-American conservatives, and she actually seems to know quite a bit about the history of black politics in America, offering an informative and engaging account of some of the ideological struggles that have taken place within the civil-rights movement since Booker T. Washington and W.E.B. DuBois. The problem is that, when it comes to other minority groups, she insists on depicting any challenges to the left-wing establishment as philosophically analogous to and politically allied with black conservatism, and indeed as ultimately being little more than adjuncts to the African-American conservative movement. This is an extremely problematic assumption when it comes to gays — who, after blacks, receive the most attention here — and it results in an inexcusable degree of historical distortion.

To begin with, in contrast to her more substantial chronicle of black politics, Dillard provides an exceedingly brief and selective sketch of gay political history that omits any mention of how the current wave of what she calls “gay conservatism” took shape. The fact is that when, in the early 1990s, causes like gays in the military, gay marriage and openly gay clergy came to the fore, the far-left liberationists who ran the major gay political groups thundered their opposition. In their view, gays should seek not to participate equally in establishment institutions but to transform them radically. “By aspiring to join the mainstream rather than continuing to figure out the ways we need to change it,” opined National Gay and Lesbian Task Force honcho Urvashi Vaid in 1994, “we risk losing our gay and lesbian souls in order to gain the world.” (Vaid is now drawing a six-figure salary at the Ford Foundation.) Queers’ proper place was not in society’s mainstream, collaborating with the enemy, but at its margins, in revolutionary solidarity with other oppressed peoples.

Enter a host of gay authors and journalists, myself included, who dissented from this orthodoxy. Our politics varied — liberal, moderate, libertarian, conservative — but we all believed in integration, not liberation; in realistic efforts at reform, not endless utopian talk about revolution. Faced with a queer establishment that was neither willing nor able to argue passionately for causes like gay marriage, we stepped in and did the job.

But not a hint of any of this appears in Dillard’s book, which deep-sixes liberationist resistance to mainstreaming and turns integrationists into a pack of conservatives. This is of particular interest to me, since, as it turns out, I’m Exhibit A in Dillard’s “gay conservative” gallery. Never mind that, having repeatedly been labeled a right-winger by the queer left and a radical lefty by the homophobic right, I’ve gone to some pains over the years to make it clear that I’m a registered Democrat and a classical liberal. (For heaven’s sake, the epigraph to my 1993 book “A Place at the Table” is a Bill Clinton quote.) But no matter: In the world according to Dillard, I’m not only a conservative but a “self-identified conservative,” an “ally” of movement conservatives, someone who is known primarily in “conservative circles” and one of the “‘radical conservatives’ of the New Right.” (Interestingly, eager though Dillard is to tag people in this fashion, when she cites Urvashi Vaid — approvingly, of course — she somehow manages not to mention that Vaid is a self-identified anarcho-syndicalist.)

Dillard’s multitudinous misrepresentations of the subject I know best — me — make it difficult to accept unquestioningly anything she says about anyone else. For example, she repeatedly calls me an assimilationist — yet I’ve routinely differentiated between integration and assimilation, a concept I firmly reject. She includes me on a list of people who have “sided with the Religious Right” — even though I wrote “Stealing Jesus” (1997), which indicts fundamentalism as a betrayal of Christianity. (Dillard’s bibliography includes several books on fundamentalism, but omits mine.)

Dillard also dwells at length on “A Place at the Table,” in which I argued (an unfamiliar position then) that the image of gays as sex-obsessed subversives — an image promulgated by the right and reinforced by a great deal of queer-left rhetoric — was false, and that most gays simply want equal rights and respect. Though antigay conservatives and queer lefties alike savaged the book, it topped two bestseller lists compiled from sales at gay bookstores for months (and still sells briskly); countless people told me it brought them out of the closet, and some have even said it marked gay America’s turning point. Yet you’d never know any of this from Dillard, who ignores the book’s wide impact, writing about it as if it came out yesterday and depicting me as a marginal right-winger striving unsuccessfully to sell an outri message.

As for the other actors in the story of gay integrationism — an admittedly unsexy umbrella term, which I use only for want of a more accurate one — Dillard omits some of the most important (such as Frank Kameny), barely mentions others (Andrew Sullivan, Jonathan Rauch) and ludicrously foregrounds, of all people, the late Marvin Liebman, who founded several conservative organizations in the early postwar period and came out in the National Review in 1990. Liebman — an organizer, not an idea man — is far from a major figure in the gay integrationist story, but Dillard devotes scads of attention to him, presumably because A) he actually was a conservative, with longstanding movement ties, and B) his rather gossipy 1992 memoir, “Coming Out Conservative,” makes him a useful illustration of minority conservatives’ insidious fixation on the individual.

Similarly, because the eloquent memoirist Richard Rodriguez, who otherwise has nothing to do with any of this, has written about his gay and Latino identity in a sensitive and illuminating way — a way entirely undeformed, in other words, by inane groupthink — Dillard ropes him, too, into her cast of characters, hammering him into place as (poor guy) a conservative “fellow traveler.” And since she wants “A Place at the Table” to serve as yet another example of this baneful autobiographical predilection, Dillard wildly exaggerates the amount of personal content in the book — and has even persuaded herself that its subtitle is “A Gay Life in America.” (The actual subtitle is “The Gay Individual in American Society.”)

Now, if Dillard had wanted to represent gay integrationist thought fairly, she could’ve set Liebman’s memoir aside, paid some notice to the 95 percent of my book that isn’t autobiographical and wrestled with the ideas of people like Paul Varnell, Stephen H. Miller, Norah Vincent, David Link and the many other contributors to my 1996 anthology “Beyond Queer” (which does, in fact, appear in Dillard’s bibliography). Then there’s the splendid and comprehensive Web site of the Independent Gay Forum, which is edited by Varnell — with Reason columnist Walter Olson as webmaster — and which, in addition to publishing many of the people I’ve mentioned, includes the work of scholars like Stephen O. Murray and Wayne R. Dynes, journalists like Jennifer Vanasco and Carolyn Lochhead, and activists like Richard J. Rosendall and Richard E. Sincere Jr. — people whose ideas should be taken into account by any serious author seeking to properly characterize the phenomenon I call gay integrationism.

Yet Dillard, patently, has no such aim. She fails entirely to acknowledge that the most significant recent development in American society has been the mainstreaming of homosexuality — and that what she misleadingly calls “gay conservatism” has helped to improve life not only for gay adults but also for gay youth, more and more of whom now grow up in safe, accepting environments. Her apparent indifference to this reality represents, in my view, the worst kind of ivory-tower arrogance.

Hardly less unattractive than Dillard’s twisted picture of gay politics are her clumsy rhetorical attempts to yoke nonbigots — straight and gay alike — to bigotry. She says, for example, that one is obliged “to ask whether assimilation in the views of Star Parker, [Glenn] Loury, [George S.] Schuyler, Bawer and Rodriguez is implicated in the taint of assimilation into racism and antiblack ideologies, into anti-ethnic sentiments, and into homophobia.” (Not the clearest prose, perhaps, but, hey, it’s the thought that counts.) Likewise, she drags in the racist doctrines of nonminority right-wing crank Peter Brimelow, saying that minority conservatives Glenn Loury and Robert Woodson may “seek to publicly dissociate themselves from extremist and ethnocentric views, but the taint of association lingers.” Yet the taint is only there because Dillard has put it there. Finally, she ends her book with this dubious fluorish:

[S]ome African American conservatives … appear content … to assimilate on the backs of the black poor … The major losers in this shifting discourse about race and identity in America, then, may prove to be poor blacks, who, pathologized and silenced, will continue to be everybody’s convenient and favorite scapegoat. … [T]he most pressing question is not whether a multicultural Right can be crafted and solidified but at what cost, and at whose expense?

A couple of points about this. First, nowhere has Dillard shown that any of her principals — especially not gay integrationists — wish to assimilate on anyone’s backs. Many black conservatives have indeed weighed in on inner-city poverty, but whether their ideas have merit isn’t the point here. What matters is that Dillard doesn’t even bother to construct an argument against their proposals — she simply assumes a readership that dismisses conservative economic approaches out of hand as the work of obvious hypocrites, and that will nod in contented agreement at her facile equation of any departure from leftist ideological purity — whether by blacks, gays or whoever — with an indifference to black poverty.

Second, everybody’s favorite scapegoat? How can anyone objectively examine the rhetoric of American conservatism in our time and not notice that it’s gay people who are by far the No. 1 scapegoat? It seems clear that if Dillard offers a warped picture of gay politics, it’s because she fails entirely to view gay issues on their own terms rather than through the prism of black politics; one result of this is that gay integrationists, most of them political moderates, get lumped in absurdly with hard-right types who have built their careers largely on demonizing gays. This, to my mind, is a critical deficiency of a book that — while it may well advance its author’s fortunes in the academy — does altogether too much harm to complex and important truths about the world outside of it.

Bruce Bawer is a poet and literary critic whose work appears regularly in "The Hudson Review." He lives in Oslo, Norway.

In the Middle: Episode 1 – Happily Ever After

Henriette and Kevin have been married for 27 years. Kevin recently moved down the street because he says he's gay

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Victory, unprecedented

How the gay movement's successes surpassed feminism and civil rights -- and became a model for a new era

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Victory, unprecedented (Credit: iStockphoto/lisafx)
This article is an excerpt from "Victory: The Triumphant Gay Revolution," available June 5 from Harper.

At the height of the real estate boom in the 2000s, Robert M. “Robby” Browne, 2007 Corcoran Real Estate National Sales Person of the Year, put on his woman’s bathing suit and silver heels and walked out onto the Club Exit stage. A thousand screaming, cheering, photo-snapping real estate brokers roared their approval. The openly gay Browne, six feet tall and nearly two hundred pounds, danced a sweetly amateurish version of the Village People’s gay anthem, “YMCA,” as ten half naked male Broadway dancers backed him up.

“Is there any question of who the star is?” Browne asks proudly, watching the video today. For most real estate brokers, a third year as Corcoran’s top producer would have been stardom enough, but when Corcoran CEO Pam Liebman began planning the 2007 event, Browne thought he wouldn’t bother to attend. He’d had enough top-earner, $100-million-club years. He was turning sixty, and he was thinking about his life as a whole. Finally he said he would show up, but only if he could accept the award in drag. Browne’s beloved gay older brother, Roscoe Willett Browne, died of AIDS in 1985. He’d never forget the day when President George H. W. Bush said that dying of AIDS wasn’t as important as losing your job. “George H. W. Bush did not acknowledge the sacrifice of my brother and our love. My brother. He’s in his eighties and he still has his brothers and I don’t have any brothers,” says Browne. “And my brother was a Yalie and he was in Vietnam; Bush, how could he be more your person?” We exist, says Browne, looking at the video of his awards ceremony. “This show says we exist.”

Exist? You can’t pick up a paper without seeing evidence that gay people exist and are compelling American society to acknowledge them. The federal government protects them from homophobic violence and twenty-one states have laws against discrimination; 141 cities across the country constitute enclaves of equal treatment. A federal nondiscrimination bill gains more support in Congress with each passing year. Poll numbers show Americans overwhelmingly support protection for gays and lesbians against hate crimes and equality in health benefits, housing, and jobs. In July 2010, a federal judge struck down the federal law, the Defense of Marriage Act, that excluded gays from the federal benefits for which married people were eligible and that allowed the states to refuse to recognize the marriages if they pleased. In August, another federal judge invalidated the amendment to the California constitution, added by Proposition 8, that limited marriage to a man and a woman. September had hardly dawned when a third federal judge found the policy requiring gay soldiers to hide their sexual orientation, don’t ask/don’t tell, unconstitutional as well. The United States Congress repealed the law prohibiting out gays and lesbians from serving in the armed forces. Right after the Fourth of July in 2011, the federal courts in California ordered the United States military to stop screwing around getting ready and just cease enforcing it at once.

Gay playwright Edward Albee’s play about the unbounded nature of love objects, “The Goat, or Who Is Sylvia?,” won the Tony Award for best play in 2002; the heroic biopic about San Francisco gay activist Harvey Milk, “Milk,” won two Oscars in 2009. So many people in show business have come out as gay that some gay media are now pooh-poohing their confessions as cheap shots meant to bolster their flagging careers.

Two of the most famous heterosexual lawyers in America, David Boies and Ted Olson, brought the suit against the California marriage ban in 2009. Win or lose, Boies and Olson’s case has already achieved the crucial social goal of making same-sex marriage a legitimate claim. On the eve of the closing argument in the case in 2010, a New York Times editorial called same-sex marriage “A Basic Civil Right.” In 2011 the poll numbers in favor of same-sex marriage crossed 50 percent. Regardless of intermittent setbacks, gay people like Robby Browne have succeeded in forcing society to acknowledge that they exist—as humans with a right to life and as American citizens with a claim to equality under the United States Constitution. Most of all, they have staked their claim to be treated, without lying or hiding, as moral persons, whose lives, loves, and ambitions have value and cannot be discounted.

The year 2009 saw the fortieth anniversary of the uprising in a New York gay bar called Stonewall. In 1969, “homosexuals,” people who wanted to have sex with members of their own sex, were considered sinful by the church, their sexual practices were criminal in forty-nine states, the psychiatrists said they were crazy, and the State Department held that they were subversive. Forty-two years later, almost to the day, Andrew Cuomo, the governor of the state of New York, signed the law that enabled them to marry in New York. The Empire State Building was lit up in the rainbow colors of the symbolic gay flag.

How did this tiny minority of despised and marginalized people do it? They did it in America, what we philosophers call a “liberal (small L) state.” America’s roots go back to the beginning of modern Western political thought in the seventeenth century, when the philosopher Thomas Hobbes speculated that people create their governments; states are not handed down from God to Adam to the king. During the century and a half after Hobbes wrote, the English and their American colonists launched a variety of social movements—the English Revolution and the American Revolution among them—that pushed and pulled on the deal between people and government until they produced the basic outline of the modern western state, the liberal state. The liberal state makes three promises to its citizens. First, security: the state will protect its citizens from one another and not hurt them worse than the people it is protecting them from. Second, liberty: citizens have certain rights as human beings that even the state cannot interfere with. And finally, self-governance: for those aspects of life the state can control, citizens must decide for themselves on equal terms what they want the state to do. It’s a good deal. No wonder so many people want in.

By the late twentieth century, Americans had already undertaken two great social movements for inclusion in the liberal state, the racial civil rights movement and the feminist movement. Since people aren’t all that easy to organize, theorists have often speculated about how they did it. Their conclusions are that movements arise only when people come to see that their problems are political, not natural or personal, what theorists call “oppositional consciousness.” This “aha!” moment in the civil rights movement dates back at least to W. E. B. Du Bois in 1903, when he observed that “the problem of the Twentieth Century is the problem of the color-line.” In addition, movements need access to resources, as when the NAACP started getting hold of real money and the movement gained astute leaders, such as Martin Luther King Jr.

Students of the racial civil rights movement made the assumption that before people engage in new movements they do a rational cost-benefit analysis, weighing the benefits of political action against the cost. When people created social movements against all odds and acted against their own individual self-interest on behalf of the group, theorists had to rethink what really drives people to take action. As the racial civil rights movement gave way to other movements—the feminist, and, finally, the gay-liberation movement—sociologists produced more theories to explain the new movements; indeed, the later thinking is often called “new social-movement” theory. In the newer thinking, theorists speculated that people draw their sense of who they are from the groups or social networks they are already in. From those starting places, they conceive a positive vision of themselves and then a desire to change the way the larger society perceives them all. New social-movement theorists came to the realization that sometimes group identity is so strong that people act on behalf of the group whether it benefits them individually or not.

Classical or new, each of the movements before the gay movement was seeking citizenship in the liberal state. Women and racial minorities did not necessarily ask the dominant society to love them or approve of them. They sought to be secure against violence, to be tolerated as they exercised their human liberty, and to have equal access to political and economic life. Each movement got traction in these crucial areas. But both of them fell short of achieving all the elements of a full human life for most of the people they represented: they got little or no economic assistance or cultural validation, and, when the inevitable backlash came, they stalled or lost ground. It would take a newer new movement to make the next moves: it would take the gay revolution.

The gay revolution achieved more because it faced different challenges. The path to liberal equality almost always involves mimicking as much as possible the behaviors and beliefs of the straight white men in power. The racial civil rights and feminist movements both made substantial detours into defending difference—black separatism and difference feminism. They failed to establish that their divergent cultures were as worthy as the dominant one and all they did was to split their movements. At the end of the day, both these modern movements got most of their traction from maximizing their similarity to dominant political and social hierarchies.

By definition, people involved in the gay revolution could not replicate the majority behavior. Their very political identity was behavior that distinguished them from the majority, including, but not limited to, their sex lives. The liberal state has a basic concept of a person entitled to be a citizen. When gay activists began their efforts, the churches considered them sinful, all but one state criminalized their sex acts, the doctors thought they were crazy, and politicians saw them as traitors to the nation. Sinners were kept away from sacred rites like marriage; criminals were imprisoned; crazy people were put in asylums; and people of doubtful loyalty were fired from their government jobs. Sinful, criminal, crazy, and subversive, the gays who made the gay revolution had the vastly harder task of convincing society to recognize they were even suitable candidates for citizenship despite their difference. Although liberalism pretends to be morally neutral, homosexual sexual behavior pressed that liberal commitment to the limit. In so doing, instead of bringing their marginal group into conformity with the mainstream norms, they challenged the accepted versions of sin, crime, sanity, and loyalty and changed America for everyone.

The movement succeeded, uniquely and in large part because, at the critical moments, its leaders made a moral claim. “Gay,” as movement pioneer Franklin Kameny put it on the iconic button of the gay revolution in 1968, “Is Good.” Even though it’s different. No one told it better than activist Arthur Evans: “It was more than just being gay and having gay sex. We discovered who we were and we built authentic lives around who we were and we supported each other doing that and in the process came to very important questions about the meaning of life, ethics, the vision of the common good and we debated these issues and we lived them.”

Morally ambitious and clearly identified as different, the gay movement came from further behind than either the civil rights or the feminist movements had done. It took on the liberal state and achieved formal equality, as did the other two movements. During the AIDS epidemic, it took on not just oppression, but neglect. And then it took on the traditional institutions of heterosexual morality—marriage and the military—and is rapidly conquering those arenas as well.

Fueled by its moral ambition, the gay movement is the model of a new era. It is ironic, yet fitting, that the only counterpart to the morally driven gay revolution is its contemporary and fiercest opponent, the morally driven religious right. Indeed, it is the moral certainty of the gay revolution that explains why, unlike the racial and feminist movements, it has been able to stand up to that powerful counterforce and, slowly but surely, prevail.

The theories all suggest that a whole lot of things have to go really right for people to act collectively against legitimate political authority. Lacking the religious and historical jet fuel of racial civil rights and the demographic advantage of feminism, the gay revolution started out from much the weakest position of any of the modern movements. Brilliantly led, endlessly resourceful, and stunningly creative, it came the furthest. When we ask how a cross-dressing homosexual activist got to be the poster boy of the most successful real estate brokerage firm in New York, we are also asking how people cooperate to get anything done, much less take on their whole society and wrench it onto a different path altogether. The gay Victory is not just a story, although that would be enough. It’s an epic.

From the book “Victory: The Triumphant Gay Revolution.” Copyright © 2012 by Linda Hirshman. Reprinted courtesy of Harper, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

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Linda Hirshman is the author of “Victory: The Triumphant Gay Revolution,” forthcoming in June 2012. Follow her on Twitter @LindaHirshman1

Disneyland: Japan’s gay pioneers

A recent ceremony at Tokyo Disneyland highlights how far the country still needs to go for gay rights

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Disneyland: Japan's gay pioneers (Credit: Cindy Hughes via Shutterstock)

TOKYO, Japan — In one respect, the decision by Tokyo Disneyland to allow a gay couple to hold their “wedding” at the theme park is a sign of progress in a country that has, until recently, largely ignored the issue of same-sex unions.

Global PostBut some campaigners have argued that leaving it to Mickey Mouse to give his blessing to Koyuki Higashi and her partner, Hiroko Masuhara — in a strictly symbolic ceremony — is also a mark of how far Japan has to go before it affords the same rights to the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) community as it does to heterosexual couples.

Tokyo Disneyland condoned this and all future same-sex ceremonies after receiving an inquiry from Higashi. Cue a confused response from a subsidiary, Oriental Land Company, which licenses the name and characters from Disney in the United States.

Higashi, 27, and her partner could “marry” at the park, they were told, but only if they dressed “like a man and a woman.” Park officials were worried that other visitors might be offended by the sight of two women in wedding dresses or morning suits.

The park relented on the dress code after a storm of protest on Twitter and other social media networks — it had all been a misunderstanding by an individual employee, it said — but the couple will not be allowed to exchange vows in the park’s chapel due to “Christian teachings.”

Those restrictions go to the heart of the flimsy protection offered to the rights of LGBT people in Japan, say campaigners. Homosexuality is not illegal, but same-sex marriages are not legally recognized.

“There needs to be more pressure for legal unions between gay people in Japan,” said Taiga Ishikawa, one of only a handful of openly gay politicians in the country. “This is only a guess, but I’d say there are more people now who are in long-term relationships and want that to be recognized in the form of a civil partnership.”

The 37-year-old, who won a seat on the Toshima Ward assembly in Tokyo last year, is campaigning to introduce an ordinance in the area to offer some form of marital recognition and to increase the number of administrative rights and services afforded to same-sex couples. But he admits that it’s “some way off.”

If Disneyland was being held up as an agent of progress, one of Japan’s most popular celebrities popped up to demonstrate that, in some quarters, ignorance reigns.

Commenting on TV on President Barack Obama’s recent declaration of support for gay marriages in the US, the film director and comedian Takeshi Kitano told a fellow guest: “Obama supports gay marriage. You would support marriage between humanoid and animals eventually, then,” before questioning the ability of gay couples to raise children.

Kitano has since tried to explain his outburst: “I was only talking about people who love their pets so much that they may think of marrying them,” AFP reported him as saying. “There is no way I look at gay people in the same way as I do animals, let alone implying sexual relations with animals.”

His were not the first comments with homophobic overtones to be made by a high-profile public figure in Japan. In late 2010, Shintaro Ishihara, the outspoken governor of Tokyo, suggested gay people were “deficient” after watching same-sex couples take part in a parade in San Francisco. “We have even got homosexuals casually appearing on television,” he said. “Japan has become far too untamed.”

Yuji Kitamaru, a journalist who writes about LGBT issues, said he was “very disappointed” by Kitano’s remarks, particularly as he has spoken up for minorities, including transgender people, in the past. “I felt it was a big betrayal not only to us and the audience, but also to himself. Public figures like Kitano can easily indulge in that kind of bigotry because Japanese people in general haven’t considered the difference between public discourse and private gossip.”

Yet Kitamaru, who has written on LGBT issues in Japan for two decades, believes social media has quickly become the forum for a more open discussion about sexuality, citing Twitter’s role in the Disneyland decision and a meeting held in Ni-chome, a gay neighborhood of Tokyo, to thank Obama for his support.

Higashi and her partner, meanwhile, have visited Disneyland to break their good news to Mickey Mouse. They have yet to set a date for the wedding, and there are reports that their inquiries were intended only to test the theme park’s commitment to equality.

Ishikawa welcomed Disneyland’s decision, which apparently came after officials in Tokyo contacted the company’s US headquarters. “I wrote 10 years ago that I looked forward to the day when gay and lesbian couples could hold hands and go to Tokyo Disneyland, so I’m very happy,” he said. “But we’re still not at the point where a man or woman can tell people, especially co-workers, that they have a same-sex partner.”

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It’s time for Dharun Ravi to apologize

Tyler Clementi's roommate gets a month of jail time in the Rutgers intimidation case. Will he ever say "sorry"?

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It's time for Dharun Ravi to apologizeDharun Ravi (Credit: AP/John Munson)

Tyler Clementi’s mother calls his actions “evil and malicious.” His father says they were “the cold-hearted violations” of his son, who committed suicide in September 2010. And a young man known only as “M.B.” said in a written statement that he “caused me a great deal of pain.” So, does Dharun Ravi’s punishment — 30 days jail time, 300 hours of community service, three years’ probation, and $11,900 total in fines — fit the crimes of which he’s been found guilty?

In March, Ravi was convicted of charges of bias and intimidation stemming from the death of Clementi, his Rutgers roommate, whom he had secretly filmed, in Ravi’s words, “making out with a dude.” It was a story that reverberated around the world, and helped invigorate the anti-bullying movement. As Judge Glenn Berman handed down the sentence Monday afternoon, calling Ravi’s actions “offensive and unconscionable,” he said that he would not recommend deportation. But the judge did pointedly tell Ravi, “I haven’t heard you apologize once” for his callous behavior. And he said he made “no comment” regarding any further civil actions the Clementis might take.

Though Berman said he believed the sentence “disenchanted both sides,” it’s one that shows respect for the law as it stands in New Jersey. It also offers what Berman calls the “hopeful” possibility that Ravi — and others who have so cavalierly shamed and exploited people — might learn something about the quality of mercy. Maybe all those hours of service can teach Ravi something he, as an 18-year-old college freshman, was so devastatingly lacking.

In her remarks to the court Monday, Clementi’s mother tearfully said that a piece of her died when her child killed himself. And M.B., the anonymous young man whom Ravi secretly recorded with Clementi in September 2010, said in a statement to the court that while he bore Ravi no malice, he “just wanted him to acknowledge that he had done wrong and take responsibility for his conduct.” That atonement isn’t something a judge can impose. And it’s a statement Ravi has yet to make.

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Mary Elizabeth Williams

Mary Elizabeth Williams is a staff writer for Salon and the author of "Gimme Shelter: My Three Years Searching for the American Dream." Follow her on Twitter: @embeedub.

HGTV: Winning the war for gay marriage

For nearly 20 years, one network has redefined domestic bliss -- and taught Americans to love their neighbors

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HGTV: Winning the war for gay marriage (Credit: Karina Kononenko via Shutterstock)

There are two ways to bring about positive, long-term social change: the fast one and the slow one. In the first version, statues are toppled, walls are torn down, laws are dramatically enacted. There is, forever, a clear before and after. It’s days like July 24, 2011, when New York state approved same-sex marriage. Or May 9, 2012, when Barack Obama became the first president to announce his support for the issue — an occasion that prompted incoming Human Rights Campaign president Chad Griffin to remark, “You will not forget where you were when you saw the president deliver those remarks.”

Then there’s the subtler version. The kind where you look around one day and suddenly realize that gay people have been building families and creating homes together this whole time. They’re your neighbors. They’re your fellow parents on the PTA. And they are totally the couple building an amazing new deck this weekend. For 18 years now, HGTV has been a steadfast force for exactly that kind of tolerance, simply by advancing the radical notion that homosexuals are out there in the world obtaining mortgages and painting their interiors just like straight people.

It’s not that LGBT-friendly content doesn’t exist elsewhere on television. I mean, Christ, have you ever seen Bravo? We could start with Andy Cohen and not even get around to “Project Runway” for days. There are entire gay-oriented networks, like Logo. But what distinguishes HGTV is both its durability and its ordinariness.

HGTV doesn’t trade in drama or high camp; it doesn’t offer “Wig Parties and Threesomes” stereotypes. Sure, one might suggest that the network’s high population of flamboyant gay designers panders to a different kind of typecasting. But the presence of hosts like David Bromstad and the married, father of two Vern Yip seems more like a logical, ordinary reflection of the makeup of the field. It’s also likely why there are so many gay contestants on its competitions as well. Just look at last year’s “Design Star” combatants, which included the lesbian former Dallas Cowboys cheerleader (and mother of four) Leslie Ezelle, and “average gay dad” Tyler Wisler.

More significant than its regular on-air talent pool, however, is the network’s consistent depiction of America’s gay and lesbian population as normal, carpooling, Home Depot-shopping folks whose agenda includes upgrading the kitchen backsplash. Far from the cavalcade of dysfunction on networks like TLC, the network regularly presents typical families of different ages and ethnicities — some of whom happen to be same-sex — on shows like “Property Virgins” and “House Hunters,” where the most shocking element of an odyssey is likely to be the property’s price tag.

That a network built around design would position itself as gay-friendly might seem like a no-brainer. But it’s also a network that  still has an overwhelmingly female core audience that isn’t necessarily going to identify with male same-sex couples. But by depicting a variety of couples and families, the Scripps-owned empire is broadening its base and appealing to a wider demographic. It’s also reflecting the reality of contemporary America.  As “Property Virgins” casting director Michael Barrick said when he put out the call for Atlanta-area LGBT parents last month, “I do prefer to see as diverse a population featured on television as possible. People like to watch a show that they can relate with, be it black, white, Asian, interracial, gay and straight. If they don’t see that representation, they are more likely to change the channel – and that is something as a casting director, that I just don’t want to see.”

There are still plenty of people out there stuck with antiquated ideals. Some of them are even running for president. But the fact that the American family doesn’t always resemble an Eisenhower-era sitcom is something more and more of us accept. It’s been a long time coming and it’s still a work in progress, but our American image of home and family is, in the words of the president, evolving. It evolves when a law is changed or a leader speaks out. And it evolves when two guys buy a house together on basic cable, and then another two, and another two, and the two ladies. Suddenly it’s not weird or unique or groundbreaking at all. It’s improvement. One home at a time.

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Mary Elizabeth Williams

Mary Elizabeth Williams is a staff writer for Salon and the author of "Gimme Shelter: My Three Years Searching for the American Dream." Follow her on Twitter: @embeedub.

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