Mom and I just returned to Seattle after attending the PFLAG national convention this weekend in Portland, OR. On the Bolt bus down on Friday, Mom wrote about the important role that PFLAG played for her and my dad shortly after I came out, and I added my two cents about why I loved PFLAG when I came out and why I am a member of Bellevue-Eastside PFLAG today. Enjoy! ~Christopher
Back in the day—the late 1900s—Seattle had coffee carts. And bike messengers. And grunge music.
As a new arrival to the city in the fall of 1993, I was drinking it all in. Kurt Cobain and Eddie Vedder sang the angst and restlessness and search for freedom I had been wallowing in since leaving Buffalo. I grew my hair long, wore flannel shirts purchased from Kitchen Soup Brigade thrift shop on Capitol Hill, and was cast in plays that no one ever came to see at Pilgrim Center for the Arts. Continue reading In the Beginning
Linda loves The New Yorker more than many things in life. This week’s post is about her reaction to a recent profile article. ENJOY!
A recent article in the New Yorker magazine tells the story of a beautiful young woman, Megan Phelps-Roper, who would hold signs that said “God Hates Fags” even at a very young age. A member of the Westboro Baptist Church, which taught a strict Calvinist religion focusing on a supposed literal reading of the Bible, she believed she was doing the Lord’s work. The Westboro Church was founded by her grandfather, Fred Phelps, who seemed to focus on homosexuality, using it as the lens with which to view the downfall of America, although Jews came in for bashing as well. Continue reading God’s Hatred