you didn't ask, but I'm telling you anyway.
Last night I went to the BAYMEC dinner, which is a congregation of queer-friendly political leaders and elected officials, and a bunch of queer people and allies who judge whether or not said political leaders and elected officials are worthy of our money and sponsorship. (I and a bunch of youth from Santa Cruz were sponsored to attend, so we didn't have to pay the $150 ticket fee.) Despite this premise, it was actually a really enjoyable evening. There were some great speeches from the likes of Evan Lowe and First Lt. Dan Choi -- oh, wait, let me talk a bit more about that.
I met Dan Choi. He was actually at the table right next to ours, though I didn't notice until Evan Lowe pointed him out in his speech. I admit to a bit of fanboying. I really admire him. Anyway, he ended up being the keynote speaker, and got up toward the end to give this beautiful, powerful speech. He started it off speaking in Arabic -- I can't remember what it was he said, although later he recited a poem I recall a bit better. It went something like this:
"You are free. You are free under the moon. You are free in the sun. You are free under the stars in the sky. And you are free when there is no moon. You are free when there is no sun. You are free when there is not a star in the sky. But you are slave to the one you love, because you love him. You are slave to the one you love, because he loves you."
He spoke about serving one's country, and fighting for what you believe in, and he spoke about the generations to come, and how they will judge us and ask us what we did in 2009 that was so worth our time, and where we were when the battle was ours to be fought. He said we deserve to be judged, because change is not made by sitting, hiding, waiting for someone else to come out, for someone else to set the precedent. He spoke about an Iraqi doctor friend of his, who wrote him after the US Army began to try to dishonourably discharge him and said that if Lt Choi couldn't get veteran's healthcare in the US, he should come to Iraq, and his doctor friend will treat him, because "you are still my friend, and you are still my brother."
Perhaps the most memorable thing Lt Choi said was toward the end of his speech -- that to serve their country, queer people must (and I probably quote incorrectly) "go where they're asked, though they're told, 'don't ask' -- and do as they're told, though they're asked, 'don't tell'." He spoke powerfully, and eloquently, and was really amazingly moving. I felt inspired and honoured to have been able to hear him speak.
The rest of the night was fun too, of course. They served a delicious seafood meal, really good salmon and a scrumptious salad, and then they served us really delicious coffee. After the speakers were done, there was a fondue fountain and small pastries. I ate an eclair and regretted it later, but it was delicious. We mingled; I spoke to some very interesting people, including John Laird, who seemed fairly impressed with my resume. Everyone seemed really excited about having youth at the dinner, which I suppose makes sense. I also encountered a couple who knew of some LGBT filmmakers and recommended them to me after I mentioned I wanted to go into screenwriting.
I've got a lot of writing to do this weekend, and I dunno if I'll finish it all. First order of business: finding a ridiculous or outrageous article to satirise. News-trawling is go!
...also, I can't get this song out of my head. It's a problem.
I met Dan Choi. He was actually at the table right next to ours, though I didn't notice until Evan Lowe pointed him out in his speech. I admit to a bit of fanboying. I really admire him. Anyway, he ended up being the keynote speaker, and got up toward the end to give this beautiful, powerful speech. He started it off speaking in Arabic -- I can't remember what it was he said, although later he recited a poem I recall a bit better. It went something like this:
"You are free. You are free under the moon. You are free in the sun. You are free under the stars in the sky. And you are free when there is no moon. You are free when there is no sun. You are free when there is not a star in the sky. But you are slave to the one you love, because you love him. You are slave to the one you love, because he loves you."
He spoke about serving one's country, and fighting for what you believe in, and he spoke about the generations to come, and how they will judge us and ask us what we did in 2009 that was so worth our time, and where we were when the battle was ours to be fought. He said we deserve to be judged, because change is not made by sitting, hiding, waiting for someone else to come out, for someone else to set the precedent. He spoke about an Iraqi doctor friend of his, who wrote him after the US Army began to try to dishonourably discharge him and said that if Lt Choi couldn't get veteran's healthcare in the US, he should come to Iraq, and his doctor friend will treat him, because "you are still my friend, and you are still my brother."
Perhaps the most memorable thing Lt Choi said was toward the end of his speech -- that to serve their country, queer people must (and I probably quote incorrectly) "go where they're asked, though they're told, 'don't ask' -- and do as they're told, though they're asked, 'don't tell'." He spoke powerfully, and eloquently, and was really amazingly moving. I felt inspired and honoured to have been able to hear him speak.
The rest of the night was fun too, of course. They served a delicious seafood meal, really good salmon and a scrumptious salad, and then they served us really delicious coffee. After the speakers were done, there was a fondue fountain and small pastries. I ate an eclair and regretted it later, but it was delicious. We mingled; I spoke to some very interesting people, including John Laird, who seemed fairly impressed with my resume. Everyone seemed really excited about having youth at the dinner, which I suppose makes sense. I also encountered a couple who knew of some LGBT filmmakers and recommended them to me after I mentioned I wanted to go into screenwriting.
I've got a lot of writing to do this weekend, and I dunno if I'll finish it all. First order of business: finding a ridiculous or outrageous article to satirise. News-trawling is go!
...also, I can't get this song out of my head. It's a problem.