The 12 Steps of Chick-fil-A.A.

Today I was talking to a friend, and he mentioned how this whole Chick-fil-A thing is so pervasive in the current public dialog.  He mentioned being at an A.A. meeting during the past week and how the first 10 minutes of the meeting was discussion about Chick-fil-A.  My instantaneous response was:  “What?  Did they think it was a Chick-fil-A.A. meeting?”

And then this silly joke of mine got me to thinking.  As I mentioned in an earlier blog, I think there are plenty of people who love both Chick-fil-A and gays.  How can we expect these homophiles to give up their Chick-fil-A cold-turkey?  In my attempt to help those poor lost souls, I offer help via a new 12 step program (borrowing heavily from the tradition of A.A.):  Chick-fil-A Anonymous.

Is Chick-fil-A.A .for you?

Only you can decide whether you want to give Chick-fil-A.A. a try

We who are in Chick-fil-A.A. came because we finally gave up trying to control our destructive fast food habit.  We still hated to admit that we could never eat Chick-fil-A with a clear conscience again.  We found out that many people suffered from the same feelings of guilt and hopelessness and cognitive dissonance that we did.  We found out that we had these feelings because we had the disease of moral nihilism.  We decided to try and face up to what Chick-fil-A had done to us and our LGBT friends and family.

Here are some of the questions we tried to answer honestly.  If we answered YES to four or more questions, we were in deep trouble with our Chick-fil-A habit.  See how you do. Remember, there is no disgrace in facing up to the fact that you have a problem. 

1)     Have you ever decided to stop eating Chick-fil-A for a week or so, but only lasted for a couple of days?

2)      Do you wish people would mind their own business about your patronage of Chick-fil-A-- stop telling you what to do?

3)      Have you ever switched from one Chick-fil-A location to another in the hope that you wouldn’t run in to anyone you know?

4)      Have you had to have a trio of Chick-n-Minis upon awakening during the past year?

5)      Do you envy people who can go to Chick-fil-A and still look at themselves in the mirror?

6)      Have you had problems connected with your patronage of Chick-fil-A during the past year?

7)      Has your patronage of Chick-fil-A caused trouble at home?

8)      Do you ever try to get "extra" waffle fries at lunch because you do not get enough?

9)      Do you tell yourself you can stop eating Chick-fil-A any time you want to, even though you keep going through the drive-thru when you don't mean to?

10)   Have you ever felt that your life – and the world - would be better if you did not eat at Chick-fil-A?

Did you answer YES four or more times? If so, you are probably in trouble.  Why do we say this?  Because tens of people in Chick-fil-A.A. have said so for many days now.  They found out the truth about themselves — and Chick-fil-A -- the hard way.  But again, only you can decide whether you think Chick-fil-A.A. is for you.  Try to keep an open mind on the subject.  If the answer is YES, we will be glad to show you how we stopped going to Chick-fil-A ourselves.   Chick-fil-A.A. does not promise to solve your life's problems.   But we can show you how we are learning to live without Chick-fil-A "one chicken fillet at a time."  

Chick-fil-A Anonymous is a fellowship of men and women who share their experience, strength and hope with each other that they may solve their common problem and help others to recover from Chick-fil-A.

The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop eating at Chick-fil-A.  There are no dues or fees for Chick-fil-A.A. membership; we are self-supporting through our own contributions.

Chick-fil-A.A. is allied with other LGBT friends and family.  Chick-fil-A.A. fully endorses equality.

Our primary purpose is to stay away from Chick-fil-A and re-align our beliefs with our consumption patterns.

The Twelve Steps of Chick-fil-A Anonymous

1)       We admitted we were powerless over our consumption and patronage of Chick-fil-A – that our habit had become undesirable to us.

2)      We came to believe that other fast-food chicken sandwiches could better serve equality.

3)      We made a decision to turn our purchasing power over to the care of gays as we understand them to be deserving of the same rights and respect as all human beings.

4)      We made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.

5)      We admitted to Dan Cathy, to ourselves, and to a gay human being the exact nature of our wrongs.

6)      We were entirely ready to remove all defects of character from our economic choices.

7)      We humbly asked Gays to forgive our short-comings.

8)      We made a list of all gay persons we had harmed by spending money at Chick-fil-A, and became willing to donate money to the Human Rights Campaign instead.

9)      We made direct amends to such gays wherever possible, except when to do so would get us glitter-bombed.

10)   We continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.

11)   We sought through purchasing and money management to improve our conscious contact with the free market, spending only on causes that foster equality for all.

12)   Having had an awakening of social awareness and responsibility as the result of these Steps, we tried to carry this message to other gay-friendly Chick-fil-A patrons, and to practice these principles in all our financial affairs.

If you want to give Chick-fil-A.A. a try, we meet every Wednesday at 6 PM at your local Hamburger Mary’s. 

Vaginal Dilators & Lesbian Typology

Vaginal dilators -- or ‘prescription dildos’ as I like to call them -- are often recommended for women who have undergone radiation therapy to the pelvis.  Radiation causes scar tissue and thus impairs the elasticity of the vagina, which in turn can make sex or pelvic exams unnecessarily painful. 

A lesbian associate of mine who has recently gone through radiation for cancer was given a vaginal dilator by her doctor today.  This lesbian associate is a self-identified “stone butch” and had to explain to her physician that her pelvic area is typically a healthcare-only zone.  Given the fact that my lesbian associate must now have frequent pelvic exams, the dilator is an unfortunate but necessary affront to her masculine identity.  In an attempt to comfort my emasculated stone butch associate, I suggested she punch a bear in the face every time she is required to use the dilator.  I also gave her the advice bequeathed to me by my loving wife, “We have holes for a reason.”

For those unfamiliar with lesbian typology, a ‘stone butch’ is, per Wikipedia:

A butch woman or trans man who is superlatively masculine in character and dress, who tops his/her partners sexually (and sometimes emotionally), and who is averse to sexual contact with their genitalia.

Given this definition, you can surely understand my lesbian associate’s dismay at being prescribed a dilator.

This got me thinking:  What kind of lesbian am I?  I am definitely butch/masculine.  I dress in men's clothing and I regularly get called ‘sir’.  But I am definitely not stone butch; I do not exclusively top my partners (emotionally or sexually) and my genitalia is definitely not a healthcare-only zone (unless you factor in my proclivity to have sex with nurses). 

I think I have coined a new typology to best describe my gender/sexuality –

I am a clay butch. 

To help you understand this new type of butch, let’s refer to the definition of the word ‘clay’:

clay

noun

1.      An earthy material that is plastic when wet and hardens when heated

2.      Moist sticky earth

Clay just describes me better.  Clay is far more malleable than stone.  Clay, unlike stone, does not necessarily crumble into pieces after taking a vigorous pounding.  And, clay will do or become whatever you want if you’re skilled enough with your hands.

If your parents don't love you, someone else's will

One week ago today, folks went out in droves to show their support of Chick-fil-A.  It was a sad day for me and my gay & lesbian friends.  Occasions like that have a tendency to take the wind right of one's rainbow flag.  In the week that has passed, I've spent a lot of time reflecting on my life, my relationships, and God/religion.

The day following the outpouring of support for Chick-fil-A, one of my best friends, Jay - a straight man, mind you - sent me a text disparaging Chick-fil-A and reminding me that his 2 year old daughter loves me and my wife (her 'god-dykes') and that's all that matters.  Later in the day, he sent another text stating that he had talked to his mother - a Christian - and she agreed that real Christians don't behave the way Chick-fil-A supporters did.  As an atheist, I don't really care whether some is a good/bad, real/pretend Christian; I'm just concerned with how folks treat other people.  Still, I appreciated his reminder that not everyone if full of hate.

This evening when I checked my mail, I noticed two greeting cards - one addressed to me and one to my wife.  I did not recognize the hand writing or notice a return address.  I opened the card and found that it was from Jay's parents, Joann & Jerry.  There was a hand-written message inside, basically apologizing for the behavior of Chick-fil-A-type Christians.  More importantly, the note included a reminder that I am, in fact, loved.

Having been rejected by my biological/immediate family - for reasons including but certainly not limited to my sexuality - I never take acceptance and love for granted in my life.  I do not believe that God is love, but I do believe in love, and the capacity for love that's deeply rooted in each of us.

Today - as with most days - my heart is full.  I wish only love to each of you, known and unknown.

“Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid.”
- Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body

Chick-fil-A-tio

It seems that everyone - both left and right - has their tits in a twist over this Chick-fil-A anti-gay controversy.  My then-husband and I used to eat at Chick-fil-A in college because it was a part of the campus food court, but I've only eaten there a handful of times in the past decade or so.  

I fully support Dan Cathy's right to hold whatever beliefs on marriage, family, and sexuality he wants.  I also fully support his right to donate to the charities and organizations of his choice.  I, in no way, wish to limit his freedom of religion or speech.  However, as a consumer, a lesbian, and an atheist, I have every right to voice a counter opinion and buy my chicken sandwiches elsewhere.

It's true that I'd rather put a dick in my mouth than a Chick-fil-A sandwich, but that doesn't mean I'm angry at folks who still eat there.  I am angry, however, at folks who actively work to keep me from being able to legally marry the woman to whom I'm completely, lovingly committed.   I'm not going to assume that every person who eats at Chick-fil-A is raging homophobe, just as I don't assume everyone with an iPhone actively supports human rights violations.

If you're one of those unlucky folks who loves Chick-fil-A's food and supports equality, here's my offer to you:   Donate $10 to the the Human Rights Campaign, Kentucky Fairness, or Lexington Fairness and I will gladly make you a tasty chicken sandwich with homemade bread & butter pickles and a side of carrot & raisin salad. 

Deal?

Rescheduling Pride

After spending the past couple of hours doing yard work in 90 degree temperatures, I started thinking about outdoor LGBT pride festivals/parades.  Lexington’s Pride Festival is next weekend, and I think it’s about time we gays got together to rethink this whole hot mess.

I’m a huge proponent of Pride demonstrations.  Although attitudes are changing, there is still a great deal of fear, hate, and stigma towards my people.  I fully support large gatherings of gays.  But do we really have to do it outdoors during the summer time?  I know, I know.  June is Pride month, because at the end of June back in 1969, gays finally started fighting back during the Stonewall riots.  I respect and revere our history.  But back in 1969, the average person wasn’t acclimated to a controlled climate.  In 1960, only 12% of homes had air conditioning.  It was hot inside, and it was hot inside – so no big deal.  It’s really hard for me to feel proud about who I am when I’m sweating buckets.  I feel like Mother Nature is committing the ultimate hate crime every time I venture out for Pride.  Do you know how quickly a lesbian can have a flannel-induced heat stroke?  

Too hot to feel proud

Here’s my proposal:  Let’s move Pride festivities to October, sometime on our around National Coming Out Day.  After all, October is LGBT History Month.  And, more importantly, the average high temperature in October in Lexington is a flannel-friendly 68 degrees (compared to a lesbian-liquefying high of 83 degrees in June).    

Let’s vote on this at our next group meeting, please.    

Island of Misfit Lesbians

This video is some preacher in North Carolina blabbering about getting rid of my people.   He suggests we sequester all gay people inside an electrified fence until we disappear.  Since women cannot reproduce with women and men cannot reproduce with men, he posits that we’ll all die off soon enough. 

There appear to be two groups who need to be sequestered:  lesbians and queers/homosexuals.  Are lesbians not queers/homosexuals?  Let’s send Pastor Worley a dictionary.  Also, somebody should probably tell him he’ll need three encampments; otherwise, where would he put the trans folks?

Regardless, I want to focus on Pastor Worley’s proposed lesbian encampment.  His proposal is not grossly inhumane.  I mean, he supports dropping food into the encampment.  That’s kind of him, right?  But does he really think this is a punishment for lesbians?  One, lesbians are reclusive, tribal creatures.  We love women-only spaces.  We also love the outdoors and camping.  His proposed encampment – let’s call it the Island of Misfit Lesbians – would just turn into a year-round Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival.  Within a menstrual cycle, we’ll have that encampment running like a well-lubricated dildo complete with several softball leagues.  Most lesbians I know are social workers and nurses, so we’ll Hull House the shit out that place.  Even if we lesbians grew tired of our confined space, does Pastor Worley really think a large society of lesbians couldn’t cut the power to that electric fence with just a little duct tape and a tampon string?  Obviously, Pastor Worley doesn’t know the lesbians I know.

Of course, the most ridiculous part of his argument is that this strategy would eliminate homosexuality because when we all died so would that love that dare not speak its name.  The last time I checked, most of my people were spawned by heterosexuals.  I mean, sequester us if you want, but YOU’LL just make more of us.   

Facial Hair

If you know me, you know that I was once married to a man.  Now that man dates guys and I date women.  (This fact, I think, makes my opposite-sex marriage a gay marriage, doesn’t it?  Just something to think about.)

I knew I was a lesbian before I married him all those years ago, and he knew I was too.  Why, then, were we attracted enough to each other to get hitched?

I can’t speak for my ex-husband, but I think, in some ways, I was his starter boyfriend.  Being with me was kind of like being with a guy, but my vagina made it socially acceptable.  When he eventually came out to his mother last year, he even told her that being with me was basically like being with a guy, because, as he told her, “Tami likes outdoorsy stuff, and to wrassle.”

So what attracted me to him?  There’s nothing feminine or girly about him physically.  Aside from being a male nurse, he’s a fairly butch guy, in that nerdy caffeinated gamer kind of way.  My ex-husband was and is a great guy.  He’s kind, funny, smart, and sensitive.  But why did I first want to make out with him?

I’ve never had a good solid answer to this question until recently, but it turns out that it’s all because of his facial hair.  While discussing our mutual man-crush on Robert Downey Jr., a fellow lesbian pointed out the following:  “I think a man with a goatee looks like he has a vagina sitting right up on his face.” 

My ex-husband, as it turns out, has had a goatee since we first met in high school.  Interestingly, the only time I can ever recall him shaving his goatee was to dress as Dr. Frank N. Furter to attend a midnight showing of Rocky Horror.  (I, of course, went as Eddie, complete with mutton chop sideburns.)    

I had never thought of facial hair in this way before, but now I can think of nothing else.  This even explains my attraction to Eddie Izzard, who is either in women’s clothing or has a goatee.  I’ve been reading up on how women feel about beards to see if this relates to the possible lesbian fascination with facial hair.  I read one article that suggests that women prefer men with light beards or stubble, as opposed to clean shaven or bushy bearded.  I completely agree with that, for both facial and pubic hair.  Hair is a signifier of maturity and adulthood, both on faces and vaginas.  That’s why I’m not a fan of the clean-shaven, pre-pubescent look on either, and no wants to go searching for lips through a Grizzly Adams beard/bush.       

I have now seen my relationship with my ex-husband through a new lens; I was his starter boyfriend and his goateed face was my starter vagina.  Isn’t that romantic?