Greetings and Salutations!

Hello, one and all! First of all, I'd like to welcome all who are reading this. I hope that this blog proves to be a valuable and positive experience for everyone involved. I'd like to start out by telling everyone a little bit about me, and about my reasons for starting this site.

About the Founder

My name is Dale Pawley. I am thirty-six years old, and I live and work in Las Cruces, New Mexico, a city of about 80-100,000 near the New Mexico-Texas-Mexico border. The nearest large city that many people may have heard about is El Paso, Texas, which is about 45 minutes away. I have lived here for over thirty years now, having moved here with my family when I was almost six, from Flagstaff, Arizona, where I was born.

I was raised in a conservative Christian family. The churches we attended during my formative years were either Assemblies of God or offshoots thereof, which means that I am conversant, when necessary, in the language used by the Falwells, Robertsons, and Palins of the world. Even now, although I have not retained much of the faith with which I was raised--I consider myself an Agnostic--I have kept many of the same conservative values that were instilled in me by my family. This is not always a blessing, since I often find myself torn between these conservative values and the more liberal ideas that I am slowly coming to embrace.

I do not consider myself a "Big L" Liberal, by the way; if anything, I fall into the Moderate category, although somewhat to the left of true center. I attribute some of the left-leaning tendencies I have to the ideas I was exposed to during my five years of college, but most of my attitudes have been influenced by the fact that I am a gay man.

You're WHAT?

Being raised in the type of atmosphere that I was, sexuality in general was not widely discussed. While my mother believed in answering honestly whatever questions my sister and I asked, the fact remained that we simply didn't know what questions were there to be asked. Most of what I did learn, I learned by simple osmosis, either from books, or from listening to the conversations of my classmates and peers. By the time I got to college, I knew less about sexuality than a great many Middle School kids (including my little brother, who's 12) know today.

It should come as no surprise, then, that I didn't figure out my own sexuality until relatively late. It wasn't a question of being in denial; it was more a question of being in the dark. I knew that homosexuality existed; I had known a few guys in High School who were unquestionably "different from everyone else", and in college I had some friends who were openly gay or bisexual. Unlike many members of my family, I didn't think there was anything wrong with them; it was all just part of their personality. By the same token, however, I was so out-of-touch with my own feelings that I didn't even consider the possibility that the same could apply to me.

I had always--honestly--assumed that my ambivalence toward "the fairer sex" was explained by the fact that I was too busy--with theatre, with classes, with friends--to complicate my life with something as silly as romance. I also suffered from very low self-esteem, so the thought never entered my mind that someone in their right mind could actually find me attractive. As I said, I was totally in the dark.

The light switch was flipped on when I was twenty-one. It happened on a crisp autumn night, when a (male) theatre cohort derailed a perfectly friendly conversation with a rather passionate kiss. It took me by surprise, and the shock I felt in that moment probably saved both him and me from a reaction more violent than, "Please don't do that again."

I spent the next two years of my life desperately trying to flip the light switch back to the "off" position. I don't think, looking back on it, that I was afraid so much of the fact that I was gay, but more by the consequences of that fact. I knew that, if I accepted this part of myself and pursued it, then eventually I was going to have to tell other people. And that was all I needed, was another reason for people to reject and ridicule me. So, until the age of twenty-three, I hid that part away, and hid myself from it, and simply willed it to go away.

It wasn't until I'd moved back home after dropping out of college that things changed. While in rehearsals for a show in which I'd been cast at the local university, I met a young man who seemed so much, I don't know, brighter than everyone else around him. I was smitten right away, and during the course of that show and another immediately following it, he and I became friends. I learned that he was bisexual, and found a host of other people in the local theatre community who were also of "alternative sexual orientation". Meeting these other people really helped me become more comfortable with my own feelings, and gradually I came to an acceptance of myself as a gay man.

On the afternoon of June 24, 1996--I was twenty-three years old--I phoned one of my college friends and told her that I was gay. I felt safe telling her, since she had always displayed an open mind about such matters when we were in school together. Somehow, however, her open mind failed me, and she reacted angrily and violently. I immediately went to the house of this guy that I'd befriended, and came out to him and his roommate (both of whom, I might add are now friends of mine on Facebook, connected even though we are all at great distances from each other). They both showed a great deal of acceptance and understanding, and both have my undying gratitude for being there when I really needed them.

Somehow, I'd gotten it into my head that once I was Out, I was Out. Hardly. I've come to learn that the act of coming out is a continuous process. Every new person I meet, every old friend I run into or reconnect with, is someone about whom I have to ask myself: "Do I trust this person with this information? Is there any value in them knowing about this part of me? How important is it, really, that they know?" I have only recently become bolder in my revelation of this side of myself; some family members are just now getting confirmation of the fact (although I suspect that most of them have already figured it out); and I am still not out at work, because I simply am not sure that this information would not jeopardize my job. Like I said, it's a process. One that provides its fair share of heartbreaks and pleasant surprises.

Okay, that's all well and good. But why this blog?

As I've gained confidence in myself over the course of the past year, I've also found myself becoming more outspoken about my political beliefs. Aside from my brother who lives in L.A., and with whom I have only recently reconnected, I am the only person in my family who, to my knowledge, supported Barack Obama in this past election. Without the self-confidence I've acquired and my determination to make my voice heard, I don't know that I could have held my ground against the combined vocal opinions of my family and co-workers, who all had a plethora of reasons for throwing their support to the McCain/Palin ticket. I will admit to having had my doubts about Obama at first, but by the time he secured the nomination, he seemed to be, to my mind, the only choice that made any sense. I was further validated in my opinion when Sarah Palin, in an interview on a Christian television show, declared that she was in favor of a federal amendment to the Constitution which would ban gay marriage, in spite of John McCain's statement that such decisions should be left to the states. This made me realize that, for me and many of my friends and compatriots around the country, allowing Sarah Palin anywhere near the White House would be very dangerous.

On November 4, when Obama decisively beat McCain and won the election, I felt that we had truly turned a corner; when Obama gave his acceptance speech, I was in awe. I had completely forgotten what it was like to be inspired by a speech given by a leader of the country. Or at least, inspired to do something other than throw a brick through the television screen. I felt hopeful. Rejuvenated. For that evening, I felt that anything was possible, and the words "Yes, We Can" seemed to take on new meaning.

On November 5, however, I woke up to the news that the citizens of the state of California had voted in favor of Proposition 8, which rescinded the rights of homosexuals to enter into legal marriage with one another. An entire state--one which has stood out for so many years as a beacon of liberality and progressive thinking--had sent a message to the nation: Homosexuals do not merit the rights of full citizens.

My first reaction was hurt. It hurt me to think that California didn't see me or other people like me as a valid person. What had we done wrong? I failed to see what harm could possibly come of the two men down the street vowing to love one another for the rest of their lives, and having that vow recognized as valid.

Once the hurt wore off, however, it was quickly replaced by anger. More than anger, really. Outrage. How DARE they tell us we're lesser people than everyone else? How DARE they tell us that our love is less valid, less honorable, less real than everyone else's? It infuriated me that the voices of bigotry and religious fanaticism had prevailed. I immediately deleted some friends from my Facebook account who expressed satisfaction or happiness at the passing of Proposition 8. (I still have some relatives who are Facebook friends, who supported the proposition, and I have some difficulty with how to handle that; but that's another matter.)

I realized, however, that merely being angry wasn't the way to make things better. Screaming at a problem rarely makes it go away; action was what was required.

But what could I do? There's not that many opportunities for political action regarding Gay Rights in this neck of the woods; the gay population in this city tends to be apolitical, or if they are, then they're not incredibly vocal in their politics. It took me a few days of thinking, calming myself down, clearing my head, and considering my options before I finally came up with the idea, which you are seeing now.

So, what do you intend to do with this?

Good question.

My idea, in starting this blog, has several parts:

1. To provide a voice, not only for myself, but for other people like me;
2. To serve as a news outlet, specifically for items regarding the steps (forward and backward) taken by the Gay Rights movement;
3. To foster a community, where those of us frustrated by our second-class status--and our straight brothers and sisters who stand with us--can gather to share our ideas and concerns;
4. To promote accountability, holding those who make their voices public responsible for their statements, whether disparaging or complimentary.

This is where you, the readers, come in.

I would like to be able to post news stories dealing with Gay Rights issues. This includes, as I said, both triumphs and failures, places where we've leaped ahead and places where we could improve. I would also like to post quotes from public personas--be they politicians, actors, performers, or normal people whose words have been published or broadcast--both supporting our cause and insulting our character.

Finding these items on a national level will be fairly simple; our celebrities and politicians are always shooting their mouths off about something, and it would take a poor miner indeed not to find gold among those dredges. But I don't want this blog to focus simply on the big, national picture. I want to find those nuggets hidden away in local newspapers or broadcasts, something said or printed by the workaday reporter at the Podunk Herald, or that slipped out of the mouth of the Hicksville evening news anchor. I'd also like to see items from other countries, because it never hurts to see what our brothers and sisters overseas must endure.

I welcome any and all contributions. If you have written an editorial or essay on the subject that you'd like to see published...send it in! If some news item has caught your eye, send me the link. Anything that's used will be credited as your creation, or your find. Personal stories from the battlefront are always welcome.

In short, I don't want this to simply be MY blogsite. I will do the posting and moderating, but I want this to be something to which we all can contribute.

"Think globally, act locally" isn't cutting it anymore. It's time for us all to band together. This will not be the only place for this to happen; it's certainly not the first. But it can be our place.

I look forward to hearing from you, to learning from you, and to standing side-by-side with you as we take this fight to the streets.

Peace to you all.