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Convenience is no excuse.

Goodbye, LGBTQIA+.

I divorce you. I divorce you. I divorce you.

The ugly, unpronounceable, ever-expanding, increasingly-meaningless-in-its-generality ("Allies"? Seriously?) alphabet monster deserves to die with a stake through its heart.

I hate that it 'disappears' gay men, reducing us to one letter in an impenetrable line-up.

I hate that it makes it easy to generalize about a population of sexual and gender minorities who—quite frankly—often have very little in common with one another except for the fact that other people hate us.

I hate that it gives everyone else credit for the triumphs, tragedies, and accomplishments of gay men.

Back at the beginning of covid, a screamer walked onto a subway car in New York, and started, at the top of his lungs, blaming—as the radio interviewer euphemistically put it—'the LGBTQ community' for the pandemic.

But we all know that that wasn't what the screamer really said, of course. We also know that he wasn't blaming lesbians, or transsexuals, or the intersex, for covid.

He was blaming fags.

As gay men, we bear a outsized burden of cultural hatred. Reducing us to one letter among many negates our story.

I'm all for solidarity, but not at the expense of identity.

My boyfriend that summer was also named Steve, so naturally we became “the Steves” to everyone that knew us.

Ah, the things straight people never have to put up with.

That was a Rocky Horror summer. At his favorite consignment shop, Steve had found a wedding gown and veil that he couldn't wait to wear in public, so I rented a tux and we got ready to run down the aisle during the Midnight Showing. We even handed out rice in the lobby before the doors opened.

It so happened that a local news outlet was there that night, doing a local-interest piece on the Rocky Horror phenomenon. Of course they wanted to film the happy couple running hand-in-hand down the aisle amid cascades of rice. For that they needed our permission.

“Are you out to your parents?” Steve asked me, sidelong. Having your family find out that you're gay via the local news is probably not the best way to go about it.

“Not yet,” I said, grimacing. “Are you?”

He shook his head.

Our eyes met.

Love wins! This week for Fiery Tuesday we've gathered a number of links relating to the recent Supreme Court decisions about gay marriage and how religious groups are reacting to it. Additionally, we've got another story about the Charleston shooting (and why it matters how we define it in our public consciousness). All this and more for the Pagan News Beagle!