Predestined Homosexuality

October 31, 2010


One of the many, many, many stupid things that failed vice-presidential nominee, Sarah Palin, said along the campaign trail was a pathetic attempt to passive aggressively condemn homosexuality. She said, and I quote “I am not going to judge Americans and the decisions that they make in their adult personal relationships.” Then she talks one of her best female, lesbians friends saying “…she is one of my best friends who happens to have made a choice that, um, isn’t a choice that I have made.” I’m sure SP left that interview thinking that she had really stuck it to the reporter and flown her anti-homosexual agenda just under the radar. Not to burst SP’s bubble or anything, but not only is homosexuality not a choice, but for some of us, your truly included, homosexuality is our destiny.

As I look back and take stock of my life there are sevel defining moments that, in retrospect, are signals from the cosmos telling me to be attracted to the same gender.

When I was in third grade, my small Catholic school decided to put on a live-version of The Stations of the Cross. For any of you who don’t know what The Stations of the Cross is, it’s a mind-warping portrayal of the days leading up to Jesus’ crucifixion that involves readings, prayers and moving around the church staring at old, boring paintings. It’s basically “The Passion of The Christ” without the high production quality and soundtrack.

Naturally, the most handsome and well-built eighth grader was chosen to portray Jesus. His name was Chris and in my naïve third grade view of the world, he was the coolest thing on two legs. He played electric guitar, could break dance like Joey Lawrence on “Gimme A Break” and had the coolest Trapper Keeper in school.

me, circa 3rd grade

The powers that be decided that two male students from third through eighth grades would play one of the twelve apostles. When it came down to the third grade, there were only two apostles left: Matthew and Judas. Not knowing anything about Matthew, I figured he’d have a smaller part of the two, so I auditioned for the role of Judas. Naturally, I won the part, as it was part of my destiny.

On the first day of rehearsals, we were at the point where Judas reveals Jesus to the Roman guards in the Garden of Gethsemane. Chris stood at the altar of the church, preaching to the other eleven disciples, while I stood back with the guards, waiting for my big scene. I flipped to the page with my dialogue to find the following lines and direction:

JUDAS: The man I kiss is the one you want.

Judas and the guards walk up to Jesus, Judas kisses him on the cheek and the guards take him away.

My hands sweat and my knees knocked as my line approached. When the time came, the director pointed to me. After a brief pause a calm came over me as I realized that God must have wanted me to play this part, deliver my line and kiss that cute boy on the cheek in front of the altar of the church.

“The man I kiss is the one you want.” I said with the aplomb force of a veteran stage actor. I led the guards down the aisle, planted the most passionate kiss a third grade nancy-boy could muster on Chris’ cheek and played out the rest of my character with the confidence that only comes from the knowledge of divine intervention and predestination.

The next ambrosial sign I received, confirming my admittance to The Friends of Dorothy club came the summer before my freshman year of high school. I joined a summer theater organization that was reviving “Bye, Bye Birdie”. “Bye, Bye Birdie” is the story of a popular, Elvis-like rocker who’s being shipped off to war. As a publicity stunt, he chooses one lucky girl to kiss before he leaves for combat.

Like my portrayal of Judas in third grade, I was chosen to deliver one very important line of dialogue. At the point in the play when Conrad Birdie, he’s the Elvis-like rocker, rolls into town I was to run across the stage, skipping and screaming “He’s coming. He’s coming. Conrad Birdie’s coming”. Honored that the director chose me to deliver this seminole line, I practiced at home for hours at a time. It wasn’t until several weeks into rehearsal that another cast member pointed out that my line was probably originally intended for a girl. Mortified, I went to the director and found out that, yes, the line that I had coveted so much was meant for a chick. They decided to give it to a boy because there weren’t that many male speaking roles and they were trying to even out the playing field.

me, age 13

Opening night arrived sooner than I thought and as I stood behind the curtain, ready to run across the stage and belt out my one and only line of dialogue Conrad Birdie came up to me. He was a handsome twenty-something with thick black hair, piercing blue eyes and a smile that melted my thirteen-year-old heart. He smiled at me, placed his hand on my shoulder and said “You ready to go? Cause I’m ready to come.” It was then that I knew that fate had chosen me to deliver that line. It wasn’t a gender mix up or a matter of cast limitations, it was the proper alignment of time and circumstances that afforded me an opportunity to share that brief, albeit powerful, moment with Conrad Birdie.

I ran across that stage and delivered an Academy-Award-winning performance, knowing that I was doing exactly what destiny had planned for me.

My advice to Sarah Palin: Maybe you should take the ideas you have about adult personal relationship choices and convey them to your single-mother, whore daughter and her bastard child.

My advice to whatever force predestined me for homosexuality: Thank you.

My advice to everyone else: The next time you’re faced with a difficult situation, take a step back and ask yourself “Is this the cosmos trying to tell me that I’m gay?”

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4 Responses to “Predestined Homosexuality”


  1. Hmmmm. Maybe not *every* difficult situation will point you in the direction of your positive gayness (:
    I don’t think that the fact that in gr.12 they made Gonzalo into Gonzala so that there would be more female parts in ‘The Tempest’ (and I got the part) had anything to do with my mild genderqueer-ness (: Although, the drama teacher had a real hard-on for getting me to play Hamlet… Maybe that one did ;p I really wish, in retrospect, that I had gone out for that one. I mean really. How many times in your life will you get to play Hamlet? Never again for me, obviously. *sigh*

    It does seem, though, that the universe was definitely swinging a clue-bat in your direction.

  2. mom Says:

    I remember going over your lines for Bye Bye Birdie, I was so proud, and still am. xoxo

  3. mom Says:

    I remember going over your lines with you for Bye Bye Birdie, I was so proud, and still am


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