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.

Coming out isn't a one-time event. Once you come out to one person, you've begun a lifelong journey of little coming outs (think hotel desk clerks) and and big coming outs ("Exactly why do I like guys? Because, Mom, penises are cool."). Since coming out is something that happens all year round, and more often for each of us that one might think, it's only fitting that there's a special annual event like National Coming Out Day. It's a time to honor what it means to come out, and help those who need a push, a hand, or an inspired bit of encouragement to come out, too.

In honor of our little gay holiday, I have a couple of stories to share, and then four videos chosen just for the occasion that you might enjoy.

One of my more amusing small coming outs happened in an airplane. I was working for the national gay rights organization, NGLTF, and was on a flight from Washington to San Francisco. Seated next to me was an older woman I hoped very much wouldn't talk to me. Not that there seemed anything wrong with her, but I don't usually like talking to people on airplanes. But silence would elude me on the flight because, yep, she was a chatter. After 20 minutes or so of small talk, she said, "And what is it you do?" I cocked my head her direction and said, "Me? Oh, I'm a professional homosexual," hoping that might end our discussion. She paused, and then trumped my self-titled profession by replying, "How does that pay?" Of course I loved her for her response and we became fast friends for the rest of the flight.

Today's the day. Come out, come out, where ever you are!

In fact, thank you all very much for coming out today!

And no matter how out you think you are, it's therapeutic and a small but positive moment of activism to just walk up to a straight person and simply declare, "Happy Coming Out Day! I'm gay! How about you?"

"They" always assume that we're straight, so for a day let all of us live with the assumption that they're all gay. Larry Craig for example, as straight as a laser beam and yet, according to recent reports, thought to be gay by half the members of Congress.

So assume "they" are gay. And when they respond with "No, no, I'm straight, totally straight!" or even "I'm not gay, I've never been gay." you respond with "You're kidding!!?? I'd always assumed you were gay by the way you act. Wow, am I ever surprised. You are so totally gay-acting. I guess you just never know."

Take me for example. I'm often accused of being straight-acting. Go figure. I try my best to be gay-acting but I often fail and have to out myself in some dramatic way.

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.

With my seemingly obsessive ongoing posts about High School Musical, you may think that I'm pretty much a one trick pony. But, as you may have guessed, I like to have as many tricks as possible.

There is something to be said, however, for latching onto a theme and running with it. In my plays, I seem to deal with coming out issues repeatedly. Perhaps I'm striving to get it right in art--since the process has been imperfect in my own real life. In these plays, the audience assumes a certain character is straight, but the character eventually comes out, clumsily in most instances and much to everyone's surprise.

For example, in Boyz of All Nationz: The Rise and Fall of a Multi-Ethnic Boy Band (2002), the very religious Hispanic member of the group, Jace, is changing backstage after the band's first big concert. An obviously gay fanboy named Joe sneaks into Jace's dressing room and starts gushing. Soon, gay Joe is trying to figure out which way his favorite boy band member swings.

This is a story of how coming out and riding roller coasters are similar experiences. Let me explain.

A couple of weeks ago, five of my friends and I participated in Six Flags Great Adventure's "Gay Night" where the amusement park was open for us gays (and the straights who love us). So there we were: Six fags at Six Flags for a great adventure -- you didn't think I was going to let that pass without comment, did you? -- where I was chomping at the bit to ride the big, scary rides ... especially the roller coasters.

Now, if you knew me, you'd know that my just looking forward to spending time in an amusement park was ironic. As a kid, I was a huge wuss when it came to ANY big, scary ride. From my childhood deep into my twenties, the closest I ever got to a coaster, in fact, was at a small, local amusement park called Nunley's that had a dinky, pint-sized "coaster." I use the quotes because it wasn't even a good excuse for one.

About eight years ago, my family and I began a yearly tradition of going to Coney Island on Mother's Day to ride The Cyclone -- a serious coaster if there ever was one -- and eat Nathan's hot dogs. And for years I watched from the side, swearing up and down that I would never, EVER ride that thing.

But then fast-forward to the spring of 2001: I was working on a television show where we did a shoot at Disney World's MGM Studios. Our office trailers were right next door to the Rock 'n' Roller Coaster and, because of that, everyone wanted to go on the ride. Well, um, let me clarify: Everyone but me. But I wasn't about to be laughed at by my co-workers for being a chicken. So I went, sweaty palms and queasy tummy in tow. And man, did I LOVE it. Who freakin' knew? ...