I have always envied people who seemed to know where they belonged. I've had more addresses and phone numbers than Republicans have sex scandals. Change has always been exciting to me; an opportunity, a carnival ride, an adventure. An old friend of mine once said, "The greatest challenge associated with aging is not morbidity and mortality; it's novelty. More precisely it's the hunger for novelty, a hunger that grows increasingly difficult to satisfy." And no, that wasn't a quote from Portia de Rossi. She's not old. That was my friend Richard "the lionhearted" Rothstein.

I don't know if Ellen and Portia are breaking up, but I do know that menopause is not what makes couples stop having sex. I know this because I went for a long time without sex and it had nothing to do with wrestling the menopause. It had to do with being in a bad relationship. The other thing I know is that this is my last post on Queersighted. Oh well, change happens. Sometimes we choose change and sometimes change chooses us. Either way, change is opportunity and opportunity is a gift. Wasn't it Glinda the Good Witch who said that? It was either Glinda or Dr. Phil, I can't remember.

During my short stay here in the mary old land of Oz, I've had the good fortune to work with talented, wonderful, fearless writers, who have inspired me, challenged me, made me laugh uncontrollably, and yes, occasionally worked my last good nerve. I wouldn't trade that for the world. It's been an absolute blast. I didn't get to know them all, but the ones I knew, I loved. Who wouldn't give up the safety and security of Kansas to hang out with a Scarecrow, a Tin Man and a Lion for awhile?

Hold the presses! This just in from the Crazy Christian Right: Kindness is good and Homosexuals are kind. I didn't make this up. It's right on their website, Dingbats For Truth About Homosexuality. Who would know more about homosexuality and truth than these fine folks? They spend nearly all their free time studying us. That's right, in between exorcisms, church pot-lucks, snake-handling and giving away their kid's college tuition to shyster TV evangelists with meth addictions, they are on "the homo" like white on rice. But, they're not just upset about our beloved Dumbledore ...

"The movement is afoot to include positive portrayals of homosexuals and the transgendered in all textbooks from kindergarten on up. I have no objections to textbooks including the important invention or discovery of a homosexual or transgender person so long as their homosexuality or transgenderism is not mentioned."

That's pretty Christian of the Dingbats for Truth. They don't mind that homosexuals are important inventors and scientists, they just don't want anyone to know about it. They won't tell you, but I will. There are so many queer scientists in Los Angeles, they have they're own website, Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Scientists.

Guess what? We're not just good at science! And the Dingbats for Truth aren't the only Christians on the block!

My high school English teacher was a poet. My favorite line from one of her poems is, "I am not so old that what my students teach, I cannot learn". I always read that line from a student's perspective. Until last night, that is. All joking about old coots aside, there has been nothing in my life to age me. Not in a real sense. I have no children. My life has always been free. No alarm clocks, no nine to five. No looming retirement. I've moved so much I don't even have any old friends. Well, I have old friends, but like my old furniture, they were already old when I met them.

Last night, I had the honor of performing at an awards dinner for a local New York chapter of GLSEN, the Gay, Lesbian and Straight Education Network. There were a dozen or so high school kids there, along with teachers, GLSEN board members and allies. Four awards were given out to community allies.

One of the award recipients said something that stuck with me. She said, "I'm honored to receive this award, but saddened that an award needs to be given to anyone for being an ally of LGBT youth." She was right of course, but I couldn't see it that way. I am indeed old enough to remember when there were no gay/straight alliances, no GLSEN's, no discussions, no community centers, no support. I wanted to give everyone in the room an award just for being there.

When I was in high school, gay was not an option. I didn't really even know any gay people until I was living in New York and went to my first gay bar. We weren't really a community, we were just a bunch of individual gay people who managed to find each other. Sometimes we were just lesbians or just gay men, and more often than not, the two groups did not intermingle. Much of the time we were separated and some of the time, we were separatists. We didn't know better. There were girl bars and boy bars, but I don't remember any T's or Q's or B's. With the exception of my own biological sisters, I don't recall having any straight allies.

I sat next to a young woman in her twenties last night. I asked her to explain her definition of "queer" to me. She said, "Queer just means different. Some queers are gay, some are gender fluid, some aren't sure exactly what they are, but they're not straight. Queer is just different, you know, whatever. We just want whatever to be OK."

I looked around the room and I saw some gay, some straight, some old, some young, some feminine, some masculine, some gender fluid and some taking gender and bending it like a pretzel. We were all together in one room.

At my table was a woman who looked to me to be in her late fifties or early sixties. I assumed she was straight. She seemed straight. She looked straight. I even worried a bit when I told a mildly racy gay joke at the table, wondering if I had made her uncomfortable.

My girlfriend who had been seated next to that woman, corrected me this morning. It seems that my new straight friend had been married for a long time, divorced her husband and was now in a relationship with her former neighbor, another woman who had also divorced her husband. They did not leave their husbands to be together. That happened later. It just happened. So, I was wrong. Whatever.

For me, last night was an awakening. For the first time I understood what the queer community was. There were sixty of us in that room. Some straight, some gay, some whatever. We were all a little bit queer and it was delightful.

Forgive this old gay coot for not understanding. I'm a bit set in my ways but I am trying. "I am not so old that what my students teach, I cannot learn". That was the last line in a poem my English teacher wrote for me thirty years ago. I now understand fully what it means.

On a personal note, I have grown to love you wonderful Queersighted readers. That's not easy for an old gay coot to say. You have made me laugh (and think) with your comments. God knows, a good laugh is hard to find. I look forward to getting to know you all better. Now, off with you, dagnabit!
(The Fairy Lady) Susan Norfleet

You know what I hate? I hate the fact that my age sometimes prevents me from voicing my opinion about subjects some think I'm too old to have an opinion about. There's a little voice in my head that says, "no one is going to listen to you about this because you sound like an old coot". Well, you know what? I am an old coot. I'm an old gay coot! And don't you dare write in to tell me that I should have said I'm an old Lesbian Coot! Dagnabbit, I like the word gay. Gay Gay Gay Gay Gaaaaaaaay!

What in tarnation is a "tween" and where's the little knucklehead who left this comment? "I have no problem with older gay people, have some in my family that I love dearly. However, I guess I don't have the revolutionary fire y'all did." Listen to me whippersnapper ... I'll give you a revolutionary fire! I have newspapers in my house older than you! You will have a problem when I come over to Prince's blog with a gay history book and a switch.

I'm such an old gay coot, I don't mind being lumped in with gay men. I'm not a sassinfrassin' separatist! I like gay men. Especially old cantankerous gay men, like Richard Rothstein. Between us, we are 106 years old. We're old enough to be your gay grandparents. In dog years, we're 742 years old. That means were old enough to be your dead gay ancestors, so shut your pie holes for a minute and listen to your elders!

Organized religion has perpetrated an outrageous and profoundly hurtful con. And an intimidated American media and a conservative mental health community has played the classic enabler role in underpinning this con leading the American people to actually think there is such a thing as an ex-gay. Ex-gays are simply men and women who have been enabled to return to the destructive and soul-crushing world of the Closet. The only difference is that this "reborn" closet is made of glass and allows us all to look in with horror.

Case in point: an obviously damaged and pathologically troubled Charlene Cothran finds herself standing before an adoring crowd of bigots and fundamentalist fanatics at a recent Americans For Truth About Homosexuality fund-raising banquet proclaiming that "the born gay claim is a vicious lie." Ms. Cothran, overwhelmed by a pathologically homophobic society succumbed to the self-delusions and self-loathing of the closet, albeit a glass closet , and now lives in a world of ignorance and dead souls.

Speaking before this modern version of a Ku Klux Klan rally, born again into the Closet, Ms. Cothran betrayed and humiliated her spiritual core and humanity.

I love animals, in fact, I got my BS in Zoology and I have two rescued cats, and a rescued Chihuahua. You can bet your bottom dollar that when I heard the most recent story about Ellen Degeneres and her dog-rescue fiasco, it really got my blood boiling.



Ellen and her girlfriend, Portia de Rossi, adopted Iggy (a Brussels Griffon mix) from Mutts and Moms (affiliated with Paws Boutique), a dog adoption agency . Unfortunately, Ellen's cats were queens of the roost and didn't give the dog such a warm welcome home. Despite Ellen's efforts to integrate the animals, her cats were just not having it. Ellen decided to do a good deed and give Iggy to her good friend and hairstylist, a woman who is married, with

After perusing some of the blog comments of late, I feel we have been woefully inattentive to the many irrational religious fanatics and the just plain fanatically stupid, who visit us here at Queersighted. This is supposed to be a place of inclusion and tolerance, and yet no one has formally embraced them into our little queer enclave. We didn't exactly invite you, but since you're here, welcome to the neighborhood!






Of course I'm not going to hand out sex toys, that's just crude. People who like to perch on the moral high ground, don't want anything to do with sex toys! I'm talking about a Queer Welcome Wagon! The original Welcome Wagon was the marketing brainchild of Thomas Briggs, who borrowed the idea from the Conestoga wagons that greeted westward travelers with food and water. Instead of offering food and water, Mr. Briggs offered women an opportunity to welcome new residents to their neighborhoods with gift baskets and coupons donated by local businesses. Occasionally, a local car dealer would even offer a new car emblazoned with a company logo to a lucky new area homeowner.

Unlike those pesky spam penis enlargement emails we've all received over the years, Welcome Wagon always offered a warm and personal touch, a smiling face and a gift basket. I know I would be much more receptive to penis enlargement supplements if they were being offered to me by smiling neighbor ladies bearing gift baskets.

I admit that I'm somewhat angered by several of the insulting comments and very rude emails that I've received in response to my Barney Frank post--so my blood pressure is already high and my temper at the moment is hot. I say this because FOX News just jumped on my last nerve.

So I find myself wondering why it is that we so easily go after each other's throats, but so quickly climb into bed with the enemy every chance we get? While we were gutting Barney Frank, FOX News was once again gutting us and Khadijah Farmer in particular. For many months I have called for a boycott of all things Murdoch including the FOX network and The New York Post. My pleas have mostly been met with silence, and yet the rush to tear into Barney Frank over principle has been fierce. But where are all of you hypocrites when it comes to FOX and The New York Post?

Sure, it's easy to slam tireless and heroic Barney, but give up Page Six, American Idol or any of the other crap shows that depend heavily on the support of the gay audience? All of these Murdoch products pour millions of dollars into Murdoch's anti-gay monster machine. Our noble gay community will take a stand on ENDA in terms of devouring Barney Frank and his supporters--even though ENDA is a bill unlikely to pass because we, as a community, are too self-indulgent and self-absorbed to deliver the kind of activism and civil disobedience that would drive Congress to positive action. But boycott our guilty pleasures even though they are openly funding the crusade to drive us back into the closet? We'd love to but not if means giving up our fun.

Thousands of queer Americans have attacked one of our few influential leaders, Barney Frank, with emails, calls and letters. Hundreds of gay advocacy groups have done the same. But with regard to Murdoch and Fox? Silence.

Closing arguments have wrapped, the jury's in and it's time for our second installment of Top Ten Worst Gay Jobs. This time we're tackling the "rough and tumble 4 ya" world of politics. Richard and I had some tough choices to make, but with the professionalism of David Vitter at a whore house, we got in there, did our business, and came away satisfied - that we picked the Top Ten Worst Gay Jobs in Politics.



Sure, we had a few disagreements. For example, while being a member of Larry Craig's family could most certainly be called a job, it's not a job in the true sense of the word. Richard fought hard for "Nancy Pelosi's hair stylist", which I did not find funny because I'm a lesbian with no sense of style for hair or anything else. Plus he ruled out Hilary Clinton's cleavage consultant.

I honestly thought "Barney Frank's Trans-gender Community Outreach Director", was a winner, until I found out that it was Richard's actual job. Anyway, here they are, not necessarily in order of worst-ness.

1. Congressional House Page
2. Diversity Coordinator for Pace-Dobson '08
3. Condi's eHarmony Representative
4. Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's Minister of the Census
5. Director of Seating at the American Institute of Bisexuality's Policy Dinner
6. Larry Craig's Communications Director
7. Men's Bathroom Attendant at the Republican National Convention
8. Comedy Writer for the Radical Lesbian Separatist Movement
9. Development Coordinator for the Mark Foley Junior Varsity Scholarship Fund
10. Mary Cheney's Manny

Note from Richard: Poor Susan and her hot flashes; they can be so blinding. I am not Barney Frank's Trans-Gender Community Outreach Director. I'm his sibilant coach.

If you're going to f**k with a queer, the last place you'd want to do it is in the gayest of all gayborhoods and just a swish, pirouette and grand plie around the corner from Stonewall Inn. You'd have to have one serious death wish, n'est-ce pas? Oh, and, of course, you want to do it during Pride.

By now, most of us are well versed on the case of Khadijah Farmer, a lesbian, who on June 24, 2007, after the Pride Parade down 5th Avenue, couldn't resist one of the world-famous frozen magaritas in 14 flavors differentes served in the 24 oz souvenir Hurricane Glass that gives the Caliente Cab Company restaurant about its only reason for staying in business.

At some point the lady in question entered the women's restroom. Caliente's bouncer burst in and threw her and her friends out of the restaurant because he thought she looked too masculine to be in the women's restroom. Even photo ID confirming her gender failed to dissuade the bouncer from giving Farmer the old 86. Farmer, of course, is suing for discrimination. And although there are no federal laws to cover this kind of service denial and harassment, this is New York City and boy are there laws and girl are they clear.

The New York City Human Rights Law prohibits discrimination in public accommodations on the basis of gender - including appearance, behavior, and expression - and sexual orientation. Similarly, the New York State Human Rights Law prohibits discrimination in public accommodations on the basis of sex and sexual orientation.

Who would have or could have imagined a lawsuit for sexual orientation discrimination in 2007 in Greenwich Village, New York City? Caliente, welcome to the neighborhood and Ms. Farmer's lawyers.

But the latest development in the story is enough to caliente the cockles of my heart. A collaboration of five activist groups, the Transgender Legal Defense and Education Fund, the Transgender Health Initiative of New York, the Queer Justice League, Gays and Lesbians of Bushwick Empowered and Make The Road New York are pooling their resources and members to stage what I hope will be a gay activist's dream and a homophobe's nightmare. Yes, you ivory tower advocates, a real, honest-to-goodness take to the streets demonstration--and just around the corner from Stonewall.

Tuesday, October 16, 5:30 P.M. And if you attend because of this post, seek me out and I'll give you a shot from my flask. (Happy Hour is Happy Hour.)

Coming out was not easy for me. Unlike many of my gay and lesbian friends, I was not born gay. In fact, it's pretty clear from photos and old home movies, I was an "in your face" heterosexual until about the age of ten. I wore dresses. Lots of dresses, some pink, with ruffles and matching shoes. I don't want to scare anyone, but there's a photo of me in a bonnet holding a purse. I was also a graduate of Miss Mary Ellen's School of Dance.

But that all changed in the summer of my tenth birthday. I was attending the birthday party of a close "hetero" friend at the local country club and had taken a break from swimming to get a snack from the snack bar. Unbeknowst to me, some ass named Timmy, yelled "Last one in the pool is a queer!" and I didn't hear it. By the time I figured out what was going on, it was too late. I had already eaten.

"Never go into the pool after you've eaten!" My mother had drilled this into me from birth. Needless to say, I was the last one in the pool. Cursed forever (and beyond: see bible, gay, hell) to the sordid an unseemly "gay lifestyle" of tea dances, disco infernos, hot girl-on-girl sex, exciting travel, two-income households and perpetual lesbian chicness. I was queer and the whole thing was clearly my mother's fault.

Comedy is surely a subjective thing. I never found America's Funniest Home Videos funny in the least, and yet it was one of the most popular shows on television for years. It had the word "funny" right in the title, but to me, it was just a series of unfortunate accidents caught on tape and set to wacky music. Subjective.

For years I did stand-up and never mentioned the fact that I was gay. My generic, gender neutral material was funny enough to get me work, but after about 12 years of doing jokes about my grandmother, lunging tweezers and stupid Southern people I couldn't stand stand up anymore. I quit.

The most fun I ever had as a stand-up was when I was working for RSVP cruise lines. My idea of heaven is being on a cruise ship stage with an audience full of happy, tanned, gay men. RSVP knew I was gay and their audience knew I was gay, but they didn't hire a gay comic. They hired a comic who happened to be lesbian. I was not so lucky with the Dinah Shore entertainment organizers. They politely told me I wasn't "lesbian enough". So I'm a lesbian who isn't lesbian enough working on a cruise ship full of gay men doing straight stand up. I am a queer queer. Sorry, a QQ.



I quit doing stand-up because I couldn't be myself. I couldn't be gay and funny and get enough work to pay my bills. Remember, I wasn't gay enough for the lesbians. I've actually had lesbians walk out on my show. Why? I do a Powerpoint presentation called "Debunking Gay Myths and Stereotypes", and the first slide that appears is, "Lesbians are humorless". I stand there for a few moments looking confused and then say, "I got nothing" and move to the next slide. Some lesbians are furious over this, but to me, a lesbian comedian, it's hilarious on a number of levels.

I understand that our own Queersighted blogger and octogenarian, Richard Rothstein, will be performing at La Mama soon. Like many of you, I read his post on Stage Fright and I felt a deep and sincere obligation to help him get over his fears. You see, I was a stand-up comedian for many, many, many, many years. I still do stand-up occasionally, when I'm not blogging or "wrestling the menopause".

We all know that Richard is a very funny writer. He wrote this line for example ... "As for Susan, she may remember some of these classics, but at the moment she's busy wrestling the menopause to the ground." See, that is hilarious.

But there is a big difference between funny on paper and funny on stage. I am a perfect example of this. For year and years and years and years, I basked in the white hot light of success as a stand-up, and yet, I have received somewhat, well ... luke-warm reviews from readers here at Queersighted. This one for example ... "while i don't support miss tequila, i think you're an annoying, pretentious, bitter c**t".

Sure, that hurt a little, but when your audience gives you lemons, try to make lemon-aid. That reader didn't really "get" my post on bisexual dating shows, but doggonnit, at least I can feel good about the fact that she "got" me. Richard often helps me with my blogs. He's the one who insisted I do the Bisexual Dating Show post.

That's why I want to return the favor and help him with some performance advice. The first and best bit of advice I can give you is to warm the audience up with what's known in the business as an "icebreaker". You're performing for a room full of drag queens and trannies. so you might want to start with, "Hey there, where ya from?" or "Say you're a good looking crowd!" or "So, how old's your vagina?" Better yet, here's some comedy advice from a seasoned comedy professional who is really good with first timers. Pay attention Richard. I want you to do well at La MaMa.

This blog has been abuzz lately about girl bands, with posts from Susan, Renee, and even Richard! I've been feeling so left out that I decided it was time to throw my hat into the ring--even though I generally don't listen to what I affectionately call "vagina music." (Affectionately, people! Don't flame me! Affectionately!)

I know that Renee wrote about Tegan and Sara earlier this year, but that was before they released their major-label debut, The Con. Identical twin sisters who also happen to be out lesbians, they kick off the album with the beautiful and stunning "I Was Married." It deals with the issue of gay marriage cleverly, and it brought me to tears the first time I heard it, particularly the lines: "I look into the mirror/For evil that just does not exist/I don't see what they see." To start off their big studio effort with a ferociously political song deserves applause, and that kind of vagina music I'm willing to penetrate.

I first heard about Tegan and Sara because musician Ben Lee, whom I adore, has talked about them, and now I know what all the hubbub is about. I love what Sara told MTV a couple months ago.

Here's a big fat follow-up to Lesbians Are Fat And Andrew Sullivan Is A Big Puss. Once again, the reader comments have prompted me to do more work. This time it was a suggestion from my friend JAM to look into The Beauty Myth, by Naomi Wolf. Just to clarify, JAM is a "Queersighted reader friend", not a "real friend", like on MySpace.

Wolf's basic argument is that women are pressured to conform to an idealized concept of female beauty. Yes, thank you fashion magazines, beauty pageants, Paris Hilton, and Eileen Chaiken. Even Jane Fonda, who had women everywhere working out to her exercise videos in the 1980's, admitted years later that between takes she was barfing up breakfast. She also added something about "good genes", in other words, "Let's face it, I was born beautiful". Jane Fonda is actually trying to help women by finally telling the truth. We're not all born beautiful. Some of us are heavier than others because we didn't get Jane's "good genes". Some of us will never be able to exercise our our way into a size 4. Jane's one of the few aging actresses who hasn't nipped and tucked her face into a permanent expression of surprise. I like her.

Look, I lost 30 pounds and feel pretty good about myself, but if I saw "style guru" Tim Gunn at a party, I would crawl through a heating duct to avoid Tim's "finger to the mouth, old queen look of dissaproval". (I love Tim Gunn and old queens, please don't write in)

Gay Republican and lesbian obesity expert, Andrew Sullivan, also weighed in, Naomi Wolf style ... "My hunch is that without shallow, physically-oriented men to appeal to, many lesbians feel even less need to stay in shape than many straight women do." My hunch is that Andrew is right and my other hunch is that Andrew's mother should have told him not to scratch his ass on National TV.