Radical Minds Retreat at the Highlander Center in Tennessee

Over the last year and a half, we have met some incredible folks in California in the aftermath of Prop 8 and nationally through our work on the National Equality March. Since the march last October, we have continued building on those relationships and discussing strategies to move forward in the struggle for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer rights.

Over the last 4 days we gathered at the historic Highlander Center in Tennessee with 45 activists from across the country who are sick of delays, compromises and excuses. Some who joined us have been activists for many years; some are new to the movement—all brought a vast depth of knowledge and a readiness to fight for a more just and equal world for all. Some have worked on national LGBTQ issues, such as ACT-UP, Equality Across America and Join the Impact; some were connected to organizations outside of LGBTQ rights, such as PETA, Presente.org, Unite Here, Colorofchange.org, Greenpeace, etc. In our outreach we purposefully looked for those who were supporting and advocating for LGBTQ working people, communities of color, and trans rights.

We had one thing on our agenda: Discuss ways to build a national network of activists to demand full equality now. We believe that it is time to escalate our demands through coordinated nationwide nonviolent direct action, and we hope to build a broad base of organizers to work with all who struggle for justice and dignity in their lives.

We know that many people across the country feel the same way, and that many have been actively working within their own communities for a long time. The Highlander Center can comfortably accommodate about 35 people, and we broke those limits because we wanted more people to participate in the conversation. We had no secrets, only limited space and resources, and a very short time to organize this retreat. We wish we could have invited thousands.

We want to work with everyone to help inspire our community to bold action. We want to be what Kate Bornstein described as “an unpredictable outspoken force,” and we want everyone at the table – no matter the sex, gender, race, class, look, age, ability, religion, family status, citizenship, class, and everything in between. We want to make the White House and Congress take notice. And we want everyone who stands in the way of full equality to be held accountable and wonder what just hit them.

We wish every voice could have been present at the Highlander Center this week, but that was neither a beginning or an end to the conversation. If you want to be involved, or if you have something to share, please let us know. You can email us at kip@neworganizing.com. Also, if you’re coming to Creating Change in Dallas next week, we’d love to get together to talk in person.

With hope and love,
Robin McGehee and Kip Williams

It was one of those technological leaps that we often find ourselves in. One minute you think you are one of the “cool” kids who is on the cutting edge, and the next thing you know someone has made you feel like a caveman who still doesn’t know how to make fire. Of course, I immediately downloaded iTunes and became voracious for new music. My iTunes needed to be fed. With it came my unquenchable need for new artists, songs, genres.

As time moves forward, science develops new tools. It succeeds itself continually, and now many of us find ourselves using iTunes less and less. Earlier today I accidentally clicked the iTunes shortcut on my desktop and cursed myself. I knew it would slow down my computer. More often than not, when told to close down, it will shut down for a second and reappear as if to ask “You didn’t really want me gone, did you?”

You see, iTunes is a memory hog. It is “bloated” software that previously had been proprietary. It was the only thing on the market that managed to do everything you could want in one simple panel; but at what cost? Web pages load slower. My CPU’s temperature and usage skyrocket. Yet the program doesn’t even have a built in equalizer (that I am aware of)!

So, what have I found myself relying on more and more? Three different music services: Last.fm, Pandora and Slacker Radio. Each with its own pros and cons, and (as with all things in this world) if they simply managed to somehow combine and create the chimera of music genomes, I would have the perfect music outlet for my tastes. But, things are not so. How do you choose between the three? My generation isn’t nearly as brand loyal as our ancestors, but we still wish for simplicity. We want it all and we want it in one place.

Coming up I’ll have a complete rundown on each service’s best and worst features. I have no intention of naming a winner but hopefully in the end someone will read my musings and be able to avoid that uncomfortable cave man moment when you realize how far behind the curve you really are.

After finding him by the side of the road it became clear that the poor guy had been mistreated. He cowered if he saw me reaching down to pet his head. He kept to himself and tended to hide underneath things for protection, yet he got along with other dogs triple his size without issue. After a few days he developed a pronounced gimp. He was favoring his front right leg.

The vet took an x-ray and it turns out that his previous owners either broke his leg or Gus did it somehow. The bad part, aside from imagining someone harming such an adorable little mutt, was that they failed to have his leg set. Because of this the bones in his right leg have grown disproportionately causing an early case of arthritis as well as a permanent gimp.

Despite all of this, Gus is an amazing dog. Now that he knows he is safe and loved he jumps, runs and plays like any other dog. If only humans could forget such horrible mistreatment the way dogs do.

Gus has become a very welcome addition to my family. He sleeps next to me on his back, legs splayed with his neck turned at an almost impossible angle, resting alongside his shoulders. He snores lightly in his sleep and seems as slow to wake as I am. I find no greater joy than rolling over in the morning and being met with his half-hooded eyes and a morning lick on my nose.

I considered for years adopting an iPhone, but in the beginning it was clear that the phone’s first generation was too buggy for my tastes. Then the 3G came out, and I reconsidered for a moment. That is, until I spoke with the multitudes of friends who found themselves locked into multi-year contracts with AT&T. They all rued and lamented the cell phone provider’s service and horrid customer support. Apparently the iPhone and its carrier were not a match made in heaven. Then the 3GS came out, but I had already given up hope and decided to move myself into a smart phone without the Apple emblem (for many reasons, including the want to not support any form of technological monopoly).

So, I turned off my Alias for greener pastures. I settled on a BlackBerry and retained my always trusty Verizon network. It took me a while to choose a handset. I wasn’t happy with the choices laid out in front of me because the 8330 Curve was certainly on the brink of fossilization, and I certainly didn’t want to land myself in the realm of the first BlackBerry Storm. Sadly, my hopes of having a smart phone were dashed by lack of choices.

I moved myself into an LG enV Touch. We were happy together for a while…a very short while. Then RIM released the BlackBerry Tour 9630 and I traded up.

Having a BlackBerry opened up a whole new world to me. I was finally able to be productive on the go. I felt cool, I felt fast and I felt important. Until my new love started to show signs of being less than perfect. The trackball began to freeze and falter. I did some research and discovered that RIM had released the first batch of Tours with faulty hardware. It seemed my curse remained.

I returned my first Tour but wasn’t ready to give up hope. They sent me a new one within two days. For some reason I couldn’t activate it the way their explicit instructions stated. I called customer service. They were stumped. The new handset was even buggier than the last and a short hour after removing it from its box, I was told another new Tour was on its way, overnight.

Then came the third BlackBerry Tour. It seemed to work…most of the time. Then a week ago I noticed the trackball and firmware weren’t playing nice. Over half the time I couldn’t use the phone to play music. I had to hard boot the system by doing a “battery pull” which is the only way to restart my Tour. It takes nearly five minutes for it to completely come back to life.

Then last Friday the phone developed a very noticeable bunch of squiggly lines on the lower part of the right screen. I took it to two Verizon stores, attempting to find a way out of the Tour. At the first store I was told that the manager needed to input certain codes to refund me and move me into a different phone. So, I went to the second store hoping to find a manager to solve the issue. The manager there only agreed to send me another Tour.

I am now on my fourth BlackBerry Tour. It has been active for under 48 hours and already I’m not receiving text messages or calls, and email comes erratically.

I’m hoping that after four mishaps I will be allowed to get out of this madness and into something that actually works as it is supposed to. However, I’m not holding my breath.

But, alas, not only is the song a dud but so is the video. Miss Spears has had some huge music video hits (“I’m A Slave 4 U”, “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, etc.) and some minor flops along the way (“Gimme More”) but all along there seemed to be at least one redeeming factor in the mix. Sure, the “Gimme More” video sucked major ass but the song still had a hook. This time around Spears has a combination that seems aimed at the lowest-end gay bar patrons and their devoted hags.

Seriously, the video is all about having a 3-way yet somehow, despite the tight clothes and phallic objects (notice that all the scantily-clad ladies are holding on to a large pole) the video isn’t very titillating. Perhaps the “3” that she is referencing points to the other artists’ recent videos that the director appears to have lifted inspiration from. Beyonce’s white background and monochromatic color-scheme from “Single Ladies”? Check. Tight cat-suit/swimsuit devoid of taste and somehow ill-fitting just like Lady GaGa’s “Poker Face”? Double-check. Throw in a dash of Christina Aguilera’s “Dirrty” and you might as well just call Britney’s latest chart-topper a complete rip-off.

This video goes in the junk heap, but expect the song to somehow still make it onto her tenth or eleventh collection of hits. Seriously, she has ANOTHER greatest hits collection coming out next month!

In the aftermath of a raid on the Rainbow Lounge, a new gay bar in Fort Worth, Texas on June 28^th of this year that left one patron with a severe head injury, the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission fired two agents and a supervisor plus disciplined two more supervisors and changed several policies. The two TABC agents accompanied six Fort Worth police officers on the raid which was initially called a routine liquor license inspection for a new business.

In the ensuing two months since the incident, it was determined that (1) the two TABC agents used force when arresting the patron; (2) the patron suffered a head injury while in the custody of the agents; (3) the agents did not wear proper attire; (4) the two agents did not have prior approval of their supervisor to conduct the raid; (5) the two agents disrupted the business during the raid; and (6) the agents did not notify their supervisor of multiple arrests during the raid (6 arrested for public intoxication). One of the agents had been with the TABC for five years, the other was hired in April 2009. These two agents were on desk duty during the two months following the raid. The supervisor who was terminated did not ensure that the agents completed the necessary paperwork with the information about using force and making multiple arrests, did not follow through when he discovered that proper attire was not evident during the raid and did not notify his supervisors of the multiple arrests. This supervisor had plans to retire on September 2, 2009.

There are many unanswered questions revolving around this incident, such as: Why did it take two months for the TABC employees to be disciplined? What caused the routine visit to turn into a raid? Had these six police officers and two TABC agents never encountered people who had ingested alcohol, and therefore had no reaction other than to use brute force on the patrons of the Rainbow Lounge? Why is there no mention of disciplinary action with the Fort Worth police officers who were involved? It’s surprising that Tazers weren’t used to subdue what must surely have been a completely unruly group of gays on a Sunday night in Fort Worth. Why else would such drama play out in a gay bar in Cow Town?

Perhaps my readers don’t care that I am gay. Or that I have two dogs that I adore, Cooper and Rune. Or that my best friend is my mother and has been since I was born. But these are the most important aspects of my life, and at times I feel hiding them from the people who read some of my most inner thoughts is somewhat misleading.

I grow tired of using neutral language for things that I would much rather make more explicit. But this isn’t the gay 90’s anymore. This is 2009; somehow we’ve made a step backward. Of course, there are other considerations for my self-censorship.

Within the past couple of months, I decided to stop hiding on the internet. I used to revel in the web’s ability to lend itself to anonymity. For the longest time, if you Googled my name, nothing within the first two pages of results would render you closer to knowing anything about me. But now, after some drastic altering of my intentions, at least three results directly link to a large array of information on me, not to mention I’m the only Justin Waldrop who has filled out a Google Profile which features my image and more on the first page of results.

I’ve entered a new phase in my life that seems to have spurred from time I spent in a world I only dreamed of. I used to hide a lot about who I was.  I didn’t believe I would be welcomed openly because of my sexual orientation, political beliefs or even my appearance. Attending a liberal arts college full of hipsters whose hygiene habits left much to be desired did little to alter this fear of being ‘known’.

After college I found myself thrown into a world of sexual openness, even frankness. I discovered that being myself either attracted or repelled people to me, for better or worse. I learned to stop hiding. Somehow in the meantime I lost myself. Sometimes freedom comes with a price. Too much of it can cause us to forget that a certain level of restraint does have a place in our lives.

Now that I’ve distanced myself from that situation, I find myself slowly growing a sense of self-awareness. Instead of being wild and free, I’m slowly allowing more and more of my own personality into the world both virtually and to those who are actually in physical contact with me. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for a long time and am slowly letting out the toxic carbon dioxide.

I’m learning to be more transparent. You can like me or not.

This is just my way of saying that Motiveless Crime is adopting a more liberal stance on what it will publish and what it won’t. I’ll be saying more, revealing more and opening up about more personal issues as well as continuing the regular content for which the site has developed its reputation.

After all, Motiveless Crime was built on the premise that having an opinion and being oneself can be a crime to someone, somewhere. That being an individual is a freedom society naturally suppresses. This is the place to let it loose. Let the animal run free.

It is a calculated risk, I know. MC is now connected to my name. My friends, family and exes can now track me down and see what I’m thinking and saying about my life and those around me. But this is the price I am willing to pay for being myself. What you see is what you get.

Being yourself can be a crime, and believe it or not, it is motiveless.

The National Organization for Marriage, the same group that was instrumental in making gay marriage illegal in California, is now targeting Iowa. The Iowa State Supreme Court passed a decision in early 2009 that legalizes same sex marriage. The decision made me proud to live in the Midwest at that time. This National Organization for Marriage is making its effort known by endorsing Republican Stephen Burgmeier who is running against Democrat Curt Hanson for southeastern Iowa’s House District 90 seat. This seat was left vacant when Democrat John Whitaker accepted a job with the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Although Mr. Burgmeier claims that he hasn’t spoken with anyone from the organization, the National Organization for Marriage has spent $90,000 in television and radio ads that began airing in the area this week supporting Mr. Burgmeier. In a statement to the press, Mr. Burgmeier stated: “They may have heard about me and what I stand for and they’ve taken advantage of that to get their message out. They seem to have the same core value I have … but I had no knowledge of them being interested in this race.” The election is Tuesday, September 1, 2009.

Hopefully, the voters in Iowa will hold on to the decision to allow, to HONOR, same sex marriage and will not follow in the footsteps of California. Love is hard enough without being pulled into politics.

Once one exits the collegiate world, major changes in mental development occur. No longer are we required to prove our knowledge by way of tests, quizzes and term papers. No more tedious work, right? Not quite. The “real world” (a term we all grew to detest because of our elders patronizing use of it) requires us to prove ourselves in live-action, a real-consequences social construct. Imagine playing Grand Theft Auto but instead of getting away with hitting that blue-haired grandma with a baseball bat, we go to jail for assault or even attempted murder.

The real world doesn’t allow us to beat grannies or avoid going into work with the same ease that college allowed. I can’t even tell you how many nights I spent up late with friends, talking, playing video games, partaking in vice and sin. By morning our brains were fuzzy and our cheeks were sore from laughing so much. But that 9:30 French class snuck up on us far too often. Why would anyone want to meet three times a week, early in the morning, to learn a romantic language that we all would only use at night to coax a lover into bed?

But there were those good things about college. I attended a small liberal arts college with fewer than 1,500 students. We had the distinction of being that college that all of the really smart, quirky and geeky hipsters attended.  In other words, we were the social outcasts in high school whom no one really liked. Imagine over 1,000 of those kids, an isolated campus and more books than we could ever read. We were even in the athletic division that prohibited any form of athletic scholarship or incentive. Our jocks weren’t even that talented, but they were smart (most anyway).

In such an environment, free thought and radical logic reigned supreme. This is what I truly miss about college. Reflecting back on my time in college, the most memorable moments weren’t the successful research papers or times in the campus café. The best memories were the late night talks, the heated classroom debates, the ideas.

We could sit around a dimly lit room with our friend’s latest art work hanging on every available hook, peg and ceiling tile. We just talked. People from all around the world attended my school. We fostered an environment that encouraged big thoughts, free expression and open discussion. Once attuned to such a world, it was rather easy to live in.

I was the type of student who never really had to try hard in class. I didn’t have to read the class texts; somehow I knew what they meant intrinsically. My ability to write made creating a better than average research paper a one-day venture, unlike all of my friends who took two weeks to write something of equal or less value. A year after graduation I would find out I was the bane of my social circle because of the lack of effort I put forth. I didn’t have to try as hard as them, yet succeeded in being cunning, smart and quick when it counted.

I knew that being able to side-step the work was just a sign of being different. It reminded me of junior high school where I was in every honors program possible but showed an acute capability to handle complex math problems quickly and correctly. Soon I was pushed to join the school’s UIL scholastic competition team for the division called “Number Sense”. The basic principle of the discipline was learning how to solve complex math problems without using the typical formula for arriving at the correct answer. We were the math-shortcut kids. Not surprisingly, the teacher for our little group was also my regular math honors teacher as well. She inadvertently taught us to upstage our peers by having a mental cheat sheet for cutting corners; thinking about the big picture can sometimes make taking the small picture a little bit easier, faster, and smarter.

But back in regular 8^th grade honors math class, we weren’t allowed to use this knowledge. We were to turn off the big picture and focus on “showing our work”. You see, number sense is all about solving things in your head. You had to be quick, linear and always-right. In honors math though, this lack of proof was unacceptable. How can you have the correct answer without proving how you got to it? No one can go from A to C without B! It is impossible.

The same problem exists in the line between college and the real world. If you were taught to dream big in college, to expand your horizons, to think outside the box, then you know what I mean. That “box” that you are supposed to think outside of is really the real world. They didn’t exactly make that clear in my pop culture class.

The real world is really just 8^th grade math class. It is that place where you sit in a room with 20-30 people, half of whom you hate and/or are scared of, the other half you are “friends” with yet are afraid of as well. Someone is always watching us, grading our work, trying to make us fit the world’s social mould. We are supposed to want to be normal and “show our work”. We have to prove we learned something and that we aren’t just inherently smart. Those of us with a different way of thinking can’t just rise in the ranks by rules of nature. In the animal kingdom “survival of the fittest” rules, no such rule exists in the human’s supposedly superior real world. There is no survival of the smartest or promise that simply being capable will get you ahead.

But in college anything was possible. Our eyes were wide-open and the welcome exchange of thoughts, experiences and future perfects kept us optimistic that we could hold on to such a life once in “the box”. But all things must come to an end or whatever simple finale cliché fits the bill. We have our friends in the real world, true. We meet people from all walks of life. But can we honestly expect to find a tight-knit group of friends who are all wild, smart and articulate? Much less all in the same dorm? Personally, I’d rather not get that close with anyone else who lives in my apartment building. I’ve become closed off to such experiences. Real life isn’t like college and it isn’t like they portray it on Friends or Will & Grace.

I prefer the real world despite the absence of such experiences. I have become Pavlov’s dog. I enjoy the treats people give me when I react appropriately and complete a task when a superior rings the bell, or sends me an email. I revel in my successes because it means somehow I have denied my own impulse to not “show my work”. I go from A to B to C and grit my teeth because I know I could still skip B all together. But the sense of independence with a tinge of fear is still intoxicating to me. Sure, I don’t have late night conversations with ten of my closest friends about everything from Plato to blowjobs. I miss it but I wouldn’t give up that feeling of finally becoming a part of that grown-up place. That place that we were always told we were too young to understand and that things didn’t work the same way there as they did in our little young minds. I’m a part of the real world now. I show my work.

I saw Christmas decorations, in July.

Most of us Americans have surely noticed that as each year passes storefronts display their Christmas fanfare earlier and earlier. Of course other holidays normally take the stage before this happens. I recall last year being mortified when Halloween candy found its way into my supermarket in the beginning of August. If memory serves, most major stores waited until at least September, if not October, to set up their tacky fake Christmas trees and jolly fat-ass Santas. Not this year, oh no.

I’m not anti-Christmas by any means. I have been known to enjoy the season with the proverbial cocktail and candy cane in hand. But that has always been when the weather has reached below 60. As it is, it hasn’t even fallen below 80. So when I walked into the perfume and makeup department to be assaulted with shiny red garland hung around the counters like bunting, I had to do a mental check that I hadn’t blacked out and missed the last three months of my life.

There atop the various counter islands were small green gnome sized trees baring silver globes with red accents. True to advertising standards since the late 90’s, there were no mangers with babies surrounded by farm animals. There were no images of Jesus. But make no mistake, this was a Christmas display.

Once the initial shock wore off and I unclenched my jaw, I let the horror of the scene filter through and I began to question why any national company would okay such a drastic raping of the yearly calendar’s fixed holiday schedule. The answer was clear immediately: People spend more money when the holidays roll around. So, why not make them think that stockings and snow are just around the corner? Perhaps the average American won’t do the simple math in their head and notice the marketing ploy at their feet? Sadly, this is probably true.

The economy sucks right now (and that is putting it mildly). Consumers are spending less because they have less. Unemployment is reaching new highs by the month. Health care doesn’t seem to be making any progress, and gay rights are seemingly becoming fewer and fewer. Yet economists tell us that we have to be good American consumers. We have to spend in order to see change. Spending creates jobs, jobs create income and therefore could lead to things like basic human rights or even the ability to pay your hospital bill when it comes due (and it will). But here is the rub: spending what we don’t have is where we went wrong to begin with.

I guess that is the real reason I’m fuming over this Christmas marketing ploy. It’s a form of mental warfare. It’s a subliminal attempt to trick the lower and middle classes into spending cash and credit they don’t have and shouldn’t be using on frivolous expenses. I, myself, was a little leery of spending any of my money on such things. I pity anyone who falls for this deceitful marketing ploy because it will backfire when it counts the most.

Consider the possibility that a low-earning family sees the covert decorations and falls for the effects. They get into a cheery mood and start noticing all of the little pretties around the store. Money is low, jobs are perilously dangling, but hey, as long as there is money for food, gas and water, surely what meager amount is left over can be used to keep the smiles on everyone’s beaming little faces. Just buy something; it’ll make all your troubles go away. Don’t have the cash? Charge it! It isn’t like you will see it on your statement until the next month.

But what if you get a flat tire? What if a pipe bursts? What if someone gets sick and needs medication? The visit to the doctor alone will drain your account of at least $100, with or without insurance. Americans have been trained to follow the instant-gratification rule. Why wait when you can have it now? It looks like Christmas in the store. So, why not indulge in a little Christmas joy right here, right now?

If one sits and thinks about the state of American consumerism for long enough, it can suck the living magic out of Christmas. Luckily, in the past, that magic has been contained to a small part of the year. That is what made it special. It was what we saved for, waited for, and hoped for. But conglomerates are stealing this magic from us with every day that they force it on us too early. Spend that money now; it won’t be there on Christmas morning. Buy little Johnny or Stacie that new toy and that amazing excitement and anticipation that comes on Christmas morning will be a little less so. The presents will be smaller, fewer.

At the end of the day, putting Christmas half a year early is in a way robbing us of the actual holiday. It’s exploitation of the worst kind. Going out and helping a major corporation’s bottom line might look good as the next round of quarterly earnings hit the market. But if the money is gone when the most important period in the American economy sneaks up on us, how will those numbers reflect the current state of our finances? Using such blatant trickery paints a very nasty color on all of us and takes away that magic in Santa’s smile. In fact, it makes it just a little bit menacing, knowing and threatening. Those little trees with shiny bobbles surrounded in glittery red garland in July are the real Nightmare Before Christmas.