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You don’t know who he is, or was? Darren Manzella was on the front lines in combat and on the front lines here at home in the fight to end DADT. A combat medic, counselor, U.S. Army sergeant and, as of just last month, a newlywed, Manzella died last week in an automobile accident. Manzella publicly challenged the military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” — on national television, no less — and in doing so became the face gay servicemen and women. For his courage in speaking out, Manzella was discharged from the military in 2008 for publicly discussing his sexual identity. When DADT finally gasped its last breath in 2011, Manzella reenlisted as a reservist. Driving on a highway in Pittsford New York, last Thursday, Manzella’s car sideswiped another car. Manzella stopped his car, got out and began pushing it from behind when another car rear-ended Manzella’s car, pinning him between the two vehicles. He was pronounced dead at the scene. But let’s not remember how Darren Manzella died, but rather how he lived, and he fought, both here and at home for the freedoms of all Americans, gay and straight. In December 2007 60 Minutes interview Manzella came out publicly as a gay soldier — which violated that 1993 policy that barred gay servicemen and women from disclosing their sexual orientation; a few months later, he was discharged. And he began to fight harder and stronger for the rights of gay men and women to serve their country in the military, and to serve openly, like everyone else. Even his family stepped into the fray. In 2010, Darren’s mother Nancy asked for the repeal of DADT: “My husband and I live in rural western New York where we have made our home at a grape vineyard and have raised three wonderful sons. We now have beautiful daughters-in-law and grandchildren. We are proud to say that we are the all-American family. As parents, this law offends us deeply. ... Our sons and daughters should be judged on their performance, loyalty to country and bravery, not their sexual orientation.”  And that same year, Darren Manzella wrote his own letter to President Obama: Dear Mr. President, It was spring 2004. I had just arrived in Baghdad. We’d been there all but four days. Then it happened. It was an ambush. It ended with my good friend shot dead. I was overwhelmed by emotions of anger and sadness, but also confusion. At that moment, my perspective on life changed; I wondered, what if I had been killed in action and had never come to terms with who I truly was and, even worse, never had the chance to share it with my loved ones? There comes a point when acceptance is your only salvation—my return from Iraq was my moment. I served two tours of duty in the Middle East in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom as a Soldier in the United States Army. I was promoted to sergeant, was a team leader of a medical squad, and conducted over 100 12-hour patrols in the streets of Baghdad, treating wounds and evacuating casualties of sniper fire and roadside bombs. I applied for Officer Candidate School under the recommendation of two generals in my chain of command. But, today, instead of protecting my fellow Americans, I sit working in a university development office because I was discharged under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). When I came out, the first people I told were comrades, with whom I had just spent 12 months in Baghdad. To be honest, I was scared of their rejection more than the mortar and rocket attacks, ambushes, or roadside explosives. But, they showed immense understanding of what I had been going through and offered unconditional support. The response from my brothers and sisters in arms proved that the military is a family—no matter if you are man, woman, black, white, transgender, gay, or straight. What truly matters is whether you can trust the person next to you. And how can trust be built around a lie? One day, I received an email from a Soldier I had never met; it said I was being investigated under DADT and that I would be stripped of my rank and pay and eventually discharged. I tried to ignore it, but the emails continued and became more derogatory. Soon, I began receiving similar phone calls at work. Unsure of who to trust, on edge every second, and losing more and more sleep each night, I approached my supervisor. I was a Soldier who lived by all seven of the Army values, including honesty. I refused to have someone else end my career. He offered a sympathetic ear before reporting me to the legal department. After an investigation into my statements and the harassment, I was told I was an exceptional Soldier and to “drive on” with my work. It was a great a relief to break the silence. My colleagues suddenly understood why I had always been so detached and began asking me to join them in activities outside of work. Later that year my division deployed again and I served the entirety of the deployment as an openly gay Soldier. I no longer had to lie if someone asked if I were married or had a girlfriend, I didn’t have to write my emails in “code.” I no longer feared being “outed.” I finally was able to be honest. After arriving in Iraq for the second deployment I was promoted once again and served my division as the medical liaison officer in Kuwait. It was there that I participated in an interview with Leslie Stahl for 60 Minutes with the focus being on a out gay Soldier working in a combat zone. I gave voice to the tens of thousands of men and women who serve everyday under the fear of DADT. The interview also ended my career. I was honorably discharged on June 10, 2008. While I sit in a safe and comfortable civilian office, former comrades and friends continue to serve, leaving their families for a third, fourth, or even fifth deployment. Why am I not able to stand in the place of my battle buddy who has left his wife three times to deploy and missed the birth of his new born child? Why are exceptions being made to enlist individuals with subpar mental and physical standards? And why are serious convicted felons granted waivers to serve while I was pushed out the door? Mr. President, last year you restored my hope that this discriminatory law will be repealed, but I must admit that my spirit has been shaken because DADT still exists. Every day, we lose dedicated and capable service members while other Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Coastguardsmen sacrifice more than their share. My experience demonstrates what matters most is competence, trust and ability. Why then should we wait another year or another decade to do what is right? Sincerely, Former Sergeant Darren Manzella United States Army New York Senator Charles Schumer, who opposed DADT, remembered Darren Manzella upon his death: “We will always remember Sgt. Manzella as someone who had the courage both to fight for his country and to change it.” Darren Manzella, after being discharged form, the military for saying he was gay, moved back to Rochester, New York and began working at the Canandaigua V.A.’s crisis call center. He married Javier Lapeira-Soto there on July 5. He fought for us on battlefields here and abroad, for the rights of all Americans to be free. RIP Darren Manzella. You fought the good fight. The march goes on ….
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Showing posts with label Gay Icons. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gay Icons. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 3, 2013
Monday, July 29, 2013
I have long admired Larry Kramer for his art, his writing and, mostly, for his in-your-face activism on the part of both the LGBT community and equality, and his work with HIV/AIDS patients. In 1980, as someone who was right there when the disease, that so-called ‘gay cancer’, that became known as AIDS, Kramer and his friends founded the Gay Men’s Health crisis [GMHC]—which is the largest private organization in the world assisting people living with AIDS.
But that wasn’t enough for Kramer, and in frustration at the lack of interest by both the government and the apathy of gay men to the crisis, he penned The Normal Heart in 1985, which fueled his fight and lead to him founding the AIDS Coalition to Unleash power [ACT UP] in 1987.
He has been a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize for his play The Destiny of Me and is a two-time recipient of the Obie Award. The Normal Heart won the Tony Award for best play revival on Broadway in 2011, and Larry Kramer received a special Tony last month for his humanitarian service.
But that’s not why I mention Kramer today; today there is another story: Larry Kramer got married.
Kramer married his longtime partner, David Webster last week in the intensive care unit of NYU Langone Medical Center, where Kramer has been recovering from surgery for a bowel obstruction. They had set the wedding date weeks earlier, and Kramer and Webster weren’t going to let a little thing like surgery and the ICU stop them.
The original plan—to be married on the terrace of their Greenwich Village apartment with two witnesses and a judge—was scrapped in favor of the ICU, where some two dozen friends and relatives watched Kramer and Webster tie the knot.
“I had been traveling when Larry went into the hospital, and when I was back and he was able to talk, he told me he had invited 20 people to the I.C.U. for the wedding. So it turned into a little party at his bedside.”—David Webster
Instead of the usual vows, Kramer and Webster just spoke from the heart; David Webster laughed, and said, “Why would Larry need a script?”
Kramer had long been skeptical of state laws permitting same-sex marriage as long as DOMA was in place, going so far as to call those marriages “feel-good marriages” because they conveyed few tangible benefits. But, once DOMA was dead, Kramer and Webster decided it was time; time to marry and have friends and family and the state of New York and their country accept the fact that they are now a legally married couple.
Perhaps one day, all gay couples in all states will be able to have that same feeling: acceptance, but until then, Congratulations to the happy couple!.
Wednesday, May 22, 2013
Harvey would be pleased, I'd like to think.
In 1977, Harvey Milk became the first openly gay man to be elected to public office in California. Both he and San Francisco Mayor George Moscone were assassinated less than a year later. Despite his short political life, Milk has become an icon in San Francisco and the LGBT community. Proof that when we stand together, we can do anything.
Now, of course, there is no Harvey Milk Day in South Carolina, which is roughly ten to twenty years behind the times; and there is no Harvey Milk Day in most states, though some communities around the nation will be celebrating. But, maybe, just maybe, each of us, gay, and gay-friendly, can talk about Harvey today, and continue to spread in his word.
It may not be an official Harvey Milk Day, but it can be a day in which all the things he stood for, fought for, and died for, are remembered.
Happy birthday, Harvey.
And Happy Harvey Milk Day to everyone else, and here are some of Harvey's words, still ringing true today: This is Sean Chapin, Andrea Shorter, Randall Mann, Sister Roma, Courtney Walsh, and Aaron Wimmer reading Harvey Milk's famous "Hope" speech in honor of Harvey Milk Day in California.
Monday, May 20, 2013
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
I’m an Old School Gay; y’all can have Madonna, and Gaga, too. For me, the Gay Diva Icon to end all Gay Diva Icons is one Diana Ross. And so, since today is the anniversary of the birth of the Diva known as Diana, I will make do by givin' up one of my favorite Diana Ross songs, The Boss, and reposting my story of A-Run-In-With-Diana, er, Miss Ross.
And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman.
Today is the Diva's Birthday! And sixty-nine looks damn hot! But, before we get to the music, for all of the "diva" wannabes out there, this is how it's done!
Happy birthday, Miss Ross!
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As a younger gay boy living in California, I waited for Miss Ross to come to Lake Tahoe, or even Reno, although Reno is tacky and dirty and Lake Tahoe is gaw-geous. And when I saw the announcement that she would be appearing somewhere, I instantly got on the phone to my homies, er, homos, and homo-friendlies, and we made plans to see her.
One time we invited our friends Ann and Steve. They liked the idea of a show, but a Diana Ross show? They weren't fans; but then we enticed them with the idea of cocktails and gambling and Lake Tahoe and cocktails and cocktails, and they relented, so we went.
Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage!
Now, back in the day at the casino showrooms, if you wanted a good seat, you tipped the ushers at the door to get closer. So I did. And we were seated next to the stage!
Well, I was two seats away from next to the stage because a couple of queens of mine, stepped in front of me. Ann and Steve sat behind me. The show starts and she appears; sings, dances, works the crowd. Reach Out And Touch! Ain't No Mountain High Enough! Baby Love!
She appeared at the head of our table, and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leaped up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her.
She appeared at the head of our table, and, well, Steve, Mister I-Don't-Like-Diana-Ross leaped up, sprawled across my head and the two queens in front of me so he could, as he says, just touch her.
I think I created a monster.
A few years later, Miss Ross was back at Caesars and once again there were phone calls and the invitations to the performance. We invited a straight couple--probably because Ann and Steve couldn't make it and we like to keep a nice gay-straight ratio. I went with my best fag hag Lisette. Well, this straight couple, Shawn and Lori, wanted to sit up front, so they tipped this time, and we were once again next to the stage. Lisette sat right at the edge and I was behind her.
Show starts. Lights dim. Orchestra plays. Miss Ross sequins out and divas all over the place. She tells the crowd she has a bit of a cold, and they bring out a small table with hot tea for her. But she soldiers on.
Come See About Me!
Love Child! My Man!
Stop! In The Name Of Love!
I'm Coming Out!
And she keeps coming over to our table and talking to us. She tells us that we are sending her all the good energy; and she looks down at Lori, who was about 26 months pregnant at the time. She asks Lori about the baby, wishes Lori and Shawn all good things, and.
They. Just. Sit. There. Needless to say they were never part of the Caravan To Caesars To See Miss Ross again.
Anyway, Miss Ross starts to sing It's My Turn, and she comes back over to our table and holds a hand out to me. I rise, like any good gay boy in the presence of diva-liciousness and clasp her hand. No, she says, up here. I believe I used Lisette's head as a stepping stone and I rose to the stage. Miss Ross wanted to slow dance with me; and we did, center stage at Caesar's Palace, while she sang It's My Turn.
And at the end, she kissed my cheek and told me that I was a gentleman.
Somehow I returned to my seat, until, The Boss. We were up in the aisles dancing and Miss Ross came to us once again and called us all on the stage to dance. I believe I was trampled on by the homo's behind me, and this time, I actually let Lisette go up first...after all, Miss Ross had said I was a gentleman, so I was not about to disappoint!
Needless to say it was a fabulous concert and one of those memories that will never fade.
At the end of the show, Miss Ross once again appeared at our table to thank us for being so nice to her.
Happy birthday, Miss Ross!
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