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MarriagEquality

Senator David Norris was in fine barnstorming form as LGBT Noise organised another successful protest today, ending up outside the Dublin Civil Registry Office and staging a “break-in”.

Homosexuality in Irish History: Terrible Queer Creatures by Brian Lacey is that rare beast: an instantly indispensable tome. A simply written, thorough and thoughtful book, it is the salve to the wound that, I believe, every gay person experiences at some stage of their lives, especially when coming out. It happens when it first dawns on us that a part of our identity, our sexuality, marks us out as cuckoos in the nest. For the vast majority of us, having grown up in heterosexual households, when we realise we are different to our family, in one crucial aspect, our natural urge is to research who else is like us, and who else has been like us in the past. Before this book, in Ireland, that search was always bitty, frustrating, and tantalising. From now on, every Irish gay teenager will be able to find in this volume something that satisfies that need, and more. Lacy has not outed anyone, everyone named in his book has been in the public domain before. He has simply, but painstakingly, put it all together, and when he is unsure, or there is conflicting evidence about someone’s sexuality, he says so. As in much of the rest of history, women’s lives over the centuries have not been recorded for posterity, and so Irish lesbians of old are hard to track down and name; in the main because so much of queer history is sourced in sexual, and often criminal scandals, and lesbians, in the main, escaped such media and legal attention.

We learn that early Celts were reportedly “much keener on their own sex”. From early Brehon Law, we learn that one category of woman entitled to divorce her husband was “A woman who is cheated of bed-rites so that her husband prefers to lie with the servant boys when it is not necessary for him to do so.” It’s a delightfully non-judgmental and tactfully phrased law, and I love the fact that, logically, a man could defend himself in such proceedings by claiming that it was absolutely necessary for him to lie with his servant boy. Necessity is, indeed, the mother of invention.

The role of bedfellow to the King was much prized in ancient Ireland, many poets considered it to be one of their chief prerogatives, and the life and works of a contemporary of Shakespeare’s, Ó hEoghusa, is explored, in particular the practice (or conceit) of a poet playing the role of “wife or lover” to his chieftain. The lives of many homosexual United Kingdom kings are discussed, including our very own William of Orange.

St Patrick himself, we learn, on his famous first trip to Ireland, fended off the salacious advances from the sailors, and refused to “suck their nipples on account of the fear of God”. It is of course Christianity that brought condemnation of homosexuality to Ireland, in the Irish Penitentials, introducing severe punishments for same-sex activity. The 1634 law that criminalized buggery in Ireland claimed, as its first victim, one of its architects, the Bishop of Waterford and Lismore, who had been notoriously severe on sexual offenders throughout his life. He was hanged for his trouble (and for his pleasure). In 1822 another Irish cleric, the Bishop of Clogher, was caught with his pants down – literally – in the manly embrace of a soldier, in the back of a London pub. (The pub later charged tourists to visit the backroom. Some things never change.)

Homosexuality towards the end of the last millennium in Ireland was seen as an imported English vice, and an 1881 scandal saw a savage witch-hunt against “a vile gang” in Dublin, “leagued together for the pursuit of unnatural depravity and vice”. The gay scene was alive and well, back then, it seems, as portrayed in a scurrilous publication of the time, subtitled “the recollections of a Mary Anne”. Missing, however, is reference to the Irish Catholic labourers’ “bachelor culture” of London, as documented in Houlbrook’s “Queer London”.

A motley crew is gathered here: various Irish policemen in the NYPD, the US Confederate Army General Cleburne. John Cardinal Newman, Gerard Manley Hopkins, Somerville and Ross, Eva Gore-Booth, George Moore, Hugh Lane, Francis Joseph Bigger, Padraig Pearse, MacLiammóir and Edwards, Danny La Rue, Francis Bacon, Brendan Behan, Joni Crone, David Norris. The roll call goes on and on. Naturally, Oscar Wilde and Roger Casement get chapters of their own. The history ends with decriminalization in 1993.

Every library in Ireland should stock this, with great big arrows pointing to it, to direct all curious adolescent cuckoos, seeking information and context, to this superlative resource.

Our Lives, Out Loud, by Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan, is no doubt going to open Volume II of a history of Irish homosexuality, a hundred years from now. It’s an extraordinary book: a deeply personal autobiography by two lovers, a fiercely intelligent political  manifesto for community education and social change, a breathtaking challenge to the Catholic Church, and a meditation on love and relatedness.

Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan

As one might expect from two radical theologians and educators, accused by some feminists of giving religion “a good name”, they articulate a vision of the world that is infused with spirit, yet lacking in dogma or preachiness. Despite their respect for each other’s “otherness” and their avowed dedication to respect each other’s differences, it is quite remarkable that the voice they express in this book is so much in harmony, and so believable. One gets a sense of their different personalities, but this single male outsider knows just how different human beings can be, and what is endearing about this book is that they freely admit that they have been lucky to have found each other, to have knitted together so well, and marvel at the serendipity that has blessed their lives. One notable omission, however, is mention of sex itself: not that I would demand that these two dignified doctors share their bedtime secrets with us, but it is curious to me that the union of two minds, hearts and spirits can be so joyously celebrated, but that between two bodies is left to the imagination. This is Ireland, after all. Still.

In 1982, they made a commitment of ‘life-partnership’ to each other. They knew it was forbidden territory, but that gave them a sense of great delight. They were Greenham Common women. They brought feminist theology to Ireland, to the apoplexy of many in the Church, which they eventually left. Katherine taught liberation theology in Trinity College, bringing students out to hostels for victims of domestic violence, to the district courts. “Why are things the way they are?” was her constant refrain. They visited a “family shelter” for homeless people, where people opened up their homes to those who were in need of one. In 1985, they found and founded one themselves. This was grassroots social activism at its best, educating women to empower themselves, they are pioneers of women’s community education in Ireland, with the emphasis of encouraging shifts away from guilt or victimhood. Since then they have built An Cosán, in Jobstown, the innovative community educational centre, now staffed by 35 people.

At times, in my envy, I might fall into the trap of thinking them smug: “The ‘most likely place’ for Katherine ‘to experience sacred essence is in her partnership with Ann Louise.’” But they have worked so hard for what they believe in, and touched the lives of so many people in Jobstown and West Tallaght, not to mention their students, that one can only salute them for not only talking the talk, but walking the walk.

Astonishing intellectual and emotional maturity is evident from this book. These women have thought through their lives and love for each other in a profound way. They forged their relationship, and their rich world-view, in the heady America of feminism, liberation theology, and gay liberation. Naturally, this radicalism was not welcome in certain circles back in Ireland: Ann Louise’s appointment as head of St Patrick’s Religious Department was vetoed by three archbishops in a row. Katherine’s many years in Trinity as a part-time but energetically creative tutor were not rewarded with a full-time position.

Katherine’s coming out letter to her parents, and the correspondence following it, is one of the most extraordinary series of letters to read; a model of deep, reflective thought and love between generations.

The starkness of the financial hardship they would face, were one of them to die living in Ireland, their marriage unrecognized, is graphically described, and the decision they made to challenge the tax laws is explained. The risk they take in doing so is extraordinary, however, on so many levels. They know that they have no option but to open their lives up to public scrutiny. But Ann Louise risks losing her job, by coming out like this, in the courts and in this book.

They are missionaries of a feminist spirituality, advocating that spiritual growth can rightfully happen outside the confines of religion. They quote David Hume: “a powerful imagination is required to turn  ideas into living impression”. In this book, as in their lives, they demonstrate this imagination in action, it is the epitome of praxis.

Buy it. Read it. Be inspired.

Just came from the launch of Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan’s book Our Lives Out Loud in Dublin. Edna O’Brien gave a lovely speech, her first book launch, she said.

I’ve read the book, and loved it. My full review is here.

A lively evening of debate on gay marriage this evening. Lovely to catch up with the good folk of MarriagEquality and LGBT Noise. But Katherine Zappone and Ann Louise Gilligan stole the show. As they should.

So: the plucky commentator is braving the wrath of the liberal bullies by speaking out. It’s a clever ploy, because of course to challenge it is to risk sounding like a bully. It is playing the Victim card – and whenever someone does that, a Persecutor is being invoked, real or imaginary. She is appealing for a Rescuer (the reader) to come in on a white charger and save the day, to protect her and save her, and, in particular, the poor helpless children she is fighting to protect from homosexuals. Failing that, her martyrdom is certain – a person of faith tied to the stake by the forces of godless liberalism. “I told you so” being her last words, as the satanic flames lick at her feet, and the fabric of society, the old moral order, disintegrates.

In response, I could, if I wish, compete on the Victim stakes, list the experiences I’ve had as a gay man to trump her. It’s an argument I am loath to employ, because it’s an emotionally manipulative one. And yet, for so many gay people, bullying has been a visceral, inescapable reality, especially when growing up. Being bullied at school, being criminalized, having to keep one’s early relationship needs secret, being deemed to be a sinner, being classed as psychologically disordered, being discriminated against at work, being distorted and/or invisible in the media, all leave their marks on a soul. It’s hard to disidentify from the Victim role, it’s hard to argue rationally when there has been so much hurt.

It is possible, however, to identify the forces that conspired to create that awful state of affairs, for so many Irish gay people. Largely, it was an intellectually lazy, instinctively reactionary consensus in Irish life, overly influenced by celibate clergy. There was a fear of difference, a suspicion bordering on hatred of sexual expression, a shocking ignorance of human diversity, and a punitive scapegoating of a minority. At its heart was a traditional Christian orthodoxy which was embedded in the Irish political system: a theocracy.

Challenging that has not been easy over the past few decades – in the main, it was achieved by the many thousands of ordinary gay people who came out and spoke out about their lives and experiences to their family and friends and in their workplace, and in the media and courts, shattering myths and prejudices simply by living our lives publicly, arguing our case rationally, and refusing to buy into the shame we were supposed to feel. To this end, we have been successful to a degree I could not have imagined when I left Ireland in 1993, when I was still a criminal in the eyes of the law. In 2008, a handsome 58% of Irish people believe that gay and lesbian couples should be allowed to marry in a registry office, and a stunning 84% are in favour of some sort of civil partnership. The argument for equality has been won, except in the Fianna Fáil parliamentary party, which, sadly, is where it currently matters.

The ignorant moral “majority” of old, now finding itself in the minority, has had to adapt its debating techniques to cope with this change: hence the “think-tanks” like the Iona Institute. Borrowing from the language of the neo-cons in America, they are busy creating this new enemy, the “liberal elite”, and adapting it to Irish cultural and political life.

But I cannot stomach their wrapping themselves in the flag of victimhood, crying “bully!” It is disingenuous and dishonest. Most especially, when it comes to the issue of gay marriage.

I can appreciate an argument that calls for caution when old barriers against sexual permissiveness fall in the name of progress. When prostitution is legalized, or when cruising is legalised in a public park after dark, (as it was in Amsterdam earlier this year), for example, there are all sorts of sensible  arguments that can be made to challenge such “liberal” advances. There are compelling reasons to argue against untrammelled sexual expression; not the least of which is the spread of sexually transmitted diseases such as AIDS. My position on these sorts of issues is not directly related to my sexual orientation – charges of homophobia are redundant, irrelevant. It is not homophobic, for example, to raise the issue of reportedly widespread unsafe sex practices in gay saunas. The same sort of argument is required when discussing the decriminalization of drugs, including alcohol and tobacco; not to mention the vexed question of abortion. At the crux of these debates is how much freedom a state should give to its citizens to do things that are of questionable value, when there is a question of balancing different rights.

At the core of the argument in her article, however, lies unmistakable prejudice. Gay marriage, writes O’Brien, would result in the situation “where some children will have the right to be reared by a mother and father, where possible, taken away.” She argues that “sweeping changes” in our understanding of marriage would do away with the principle that child custody, in the event of separation or divorce, is decided on a case-by-case basis. That, if gay marriage were introduced, the courts would have to disregard the gender of the person or persons applying for custody of a child or children, and decide on the merits of each case, bearing in mind the best interests of the child or children. Should this happen, she argues, a child could find him or herself brought up by same-sex parents and be denied contact with their biological parent(s).

This is already the case, when in April the High Court decided that a man who had donated his sperm on condition he relinquish his right to be a father could not change his mind afterwards. The child was left in the custody of his “de facto” family, two lesbian women. It was a specific judgment addressing the unique circumstances of that child’s situation, and was made in the absence of any legal recognition of the lesbians’ relationship.

However, even if the women were married, the father’s right to sue for custody and/or access would not disappear; the same arguments would apply. And the reason is that, when it comes to the custody of children or to adoption, parents of whatever orientation, biological or not, do not have absolute rights; the state will intervene, and rightly so, when a child is suffering at the hands of his or her parents, and make what are often difficult decisions. In custody cases, there are rarely only winners. Gay marriage will ensure that the losers in such cases do not lose because of blind prejudice, as has so often been in the case in the past, but because they have failed to prove that their presence in the child’s life is in the child’s best interest. To argue that this should be the case is not bullying, it is not victimizing children, it is not unleashing some dark chaotic liberal force that demands that children should suffer because of political correctness gone mad.

It is common sense. It is fair. It is supported by a vast body of scientific research on children raised with same-sex parents. And it goes some way to address the absurdity that just because heterosexuals have unsafe sex it automatically makes them suitable parents. Let the courts decide what’s best for children, without prejudice.

Bullying? Breda O’Brien does not know the meaning of the word.

Jay Brannan’s first album “goddamned” is out this week, and is a must-download. He financed it himself – he is one of the growing number of singer/songwriters who are managing to start their careers with money earned from tracks released on iTunes and CDBaby and Napster, and whose reputation spread on MySpace, Facebook and, in particular, YouTube, where he has over 13,000 subscribers to his simple boy-sings-with-guitar-in-his-bathroom videos. While writing for the album, he kept his day job as a proofreader in New York, and saved the money to produce it himself, and pay for the promotional tour. (He’s playing 2nd September 2008 at Crawdaddy). He has not done a “record deal”, there are no executives in the music industry pulling his strings. He’s his own man.

Brannan first caught my eye playing the ethereal Ceth in the stunning 2006 indie film “Shortbus” (showing in Panti Bar, Wednesday October 22nd), by Hedwig’s creator John Cameron Mitchell, a film that is ostensibly about sex but reaches far deeper into the human heart than most; a provocative, moving and ultimately life-enhancing experience, in which Brannan sings his own song, “Soda Shop”.

In his wistful track “I Want to be a Housewife” he dreams ironically of a life washing dishes, scrubbing floors, with his mythical man outside in the yard, suburban-stylee, working on the car, and tending to the barbecue, while Jay is doing his laundry for him. (“What are boyfriends for?”) “Crazy about each other/ we both have fucked up pasts/ but when we are together/ we have a fucking blast”. “I want to be a housewife” he asks. “What’s so wrong with that?”

Sadly, plenty. The more “feminine” of us, (does that correlate to those of us who are looking for love?), who yearn for the easy naturalness of simply stepping over the line into predefined traditional gender roles, our “straight-acting” guy un-self-consciously doing “guy things” out in the world, yet at the same time loving us at home as if we were a precious and irreplaceable part of his life, don’t have it easy. To a large degree, this is something to do with how we men relate to the “inner feminine”, for want of a better phrase. (Yes, I do want a better phrase. Trying to discuss gender is loaded with pitfalls and distractions and prickly sensitivities – we have yet to establish a way of talking about gender that isn’t steeped in esoteric and/or potentially divisive value systems – ie Jungian archetypes, astrological symbols, queer theory, feminism, gender studies etc).

Of all the times I have heard men speak about love, I have yet to hear a gay man speak of his long-term male partner with the same tenderness and awe as I’ve heard heterosexual men talk about their wives or girlfriends, with my dear old Dad leading the way in my book. This isn’t homophobia – lesbians outdo men in their capacity to speak of love for the women in their lives. (By the way – I’d love to hear testaments to redress that imbalance from men-loving men). It’s a guy thing, it’s our emotional illiteracy, and those who love women tend to learn and develop that literacy the longer they are in relationship with them. Across the board, I believe that anyone who looks to women to form loving relationships with has it easier than those who look to men. That may seem an outrageous thing to say; I’d just point out that not every man unambiguously looks for relationship in the same way that women do, we are far more ambivalent about them than is good for us. This is what prevents me from easily slipping into being the token gay at a bitchfest with “other” single women, complaining bitterly that all men are bastards, that men are the root of all evil in the world, the whole controlling aloof commitment-phobic lot of them. They’re criticizing me. I’m criticizing me. I am betraying myself, my gender if I do so. I feel uneasy when I am in those sorts of conversations – I am not sure whether being a traitor to my gender is something of which I should be proud. Or am I betraying the woman in me? Damn. So much treachery, so little reward.

Brannan comes from a hellfire-and-brimstone fundamentalist family that doesn’t take kindly to his being queer, which can’t have helped. He says he has spent “so much time trying to be comfortable with being a feminine person, a feminine guy.” He could work on countering it, he says, get coached, in which case he “would probably get laid more. Sad, but true”. Is it any wonder that he says he has the “lowest self-esteem on the planet”?

He’s not the only one. Plenty of men struggle, right across the scale of orientation, with how to prioritize love over sex. With his references to leather, however, I would guess that Brannan has had enough of a taste of the sex-as-sport world to make the life of a housewife just that little bit less unambiguously attractive. If we fall for sexual players, we don’t settle down with the “nice” guys. Settling down with the sexual players may seem like a fantasy come true, having our beefcake and eating it, but those dogs don’t stay in the yard at night, and resent being tethered. And, usually, it’s women who get away with tethering, who know how to do it; once a man starts sounding like a scolding wife, he’s history.

There’s a real problem when it comes to how men express that soft side of them that needs/yearns/longs for love. Some gay men bury it, play the game just like the rest of the lads; some act it out literally, with drag-queen subpersonalities that are like alter-egos, singing torch songs of unrequited love; but there’s an edgy element of parody and misogyny that often distorts the impulse, mocks the tricks and traits of femininity without allowing the vulnerability and tenderness any room. And, as Panti has bemoaned in her one-woman show, trannie-lovers are a rare and curious breed, and not exactly given to settling down with a mortgage and 2.2 cats.

A queen may feel liberated getting in touch with her inner diva, feel more complete, get more attention and laughs, but it ain’t gonna bring her love. Indeed, in the increasingly sexualised “straight-acting” gay dating scene, such effeminacy is treated with suspicion and, at times, hostility, oddly reminiscent of the early homophobic bullying and teasing we received at school. It’s as if some gay men resent those who remind us of our own “inner feminine”, that which we’ve worked hard to suppress and cover up in adolescence, and work hard to be just as “straight-acting” as the lad next door, just as “normal” when we’re “grown up”. Because “real men” have all the sexual capital to spend.

Looking at the current cover of Gay Community News, in which seven well-known drag queens pose in their full glam splendour and proclaim: “Throw the Pride Bouquet, girls! We want gay marriage!” I am, perhaps mischievously, drawn to wonder how many of them actually have partners lined up to be their husbands.

Of course we deserve full equality and the right to marry – but perhaps it’s only when we do have that right will we men begin to honestly reflect on why it’s not quite as simple as the song says.

In the meantime, on this side of the pond, the campaign to ensure that the forthcoming legislation is based on equality continues apace. Tonight there’s a fundraising “biggest drag haul ever” featuring Panti, Heidi Connt, Donegal Catch and many others at the Sugar Club, tonight at 7.30pm, in aid of the fabulous LGBT Noise.

And there’s a conference organized by the Irish School of Ecumenics entitled “Why Marriage? Love and Justice in 21st Century Ireland” coming up next week in Trinity College.