Real Chinese Food

I love real Chinese food.

Not that fake stuff you get from Panda Express. Or China Wonderful Palace. Or Exquisite Jade Pagoda. Or whatever restaurant with a name cobbled together from an adjective plus a Chinese-sounding adjective plus some vaguely Oriental structure.

I'm talking the stuff that's gooey and slimy and crunchy and pungent and spicy all in the same bite. Tonight we went to Restaurant Peony in Oakland's Chinatown, which is the formal Chinese restaurant that I basically grew up on. I haven't had a decent Chinese meal since, well, since I was in New York for Pride and went with my friend Margaret and her family to "the duck place" in Queens. I have yet to explore Boston's Chinese meal options since my roommates are such big fans of dining out, not to mention dining out on mysterious ingredients. But, coming home, I'm always assured of good Chinese food sometime, somewhere. Tonight's dinner included a spinach, carrot, and pork soup; sauteed watercress greens in fermented fish sauce and chili peppers; "white-chopped" chicken; salt-and-pepper sea bass; egg whites stir fried with fish bellies; and a platter of barbecued pork, roast pork, and jellyfish strips. You know a Chinese restaurant's authentic when people around you are shoveling rice into their mouths with their chopsticks; none of this fork-it-off-the-plate-in-clumps silliness.

Tonight also happened to be something of a talent show, because apparently the Yip/Wong Family Association of Oakland was hosting the Wong Family Association from Los Angeles. And, of course, at such banquets you must have karaoke. As luck would have it, they started singing as soon as we started eating. The sound is indescriable, in a terrifying and results-in-indigestion sort of way. My father and I couldn't help trading glances, and, at one point, a lady's Mandarin interpretation actually put such a look of simultaneous puzzlement, fright, and disgust on my father's face that my normally taciturn mother choked on her food in laughter.

In any case, I love Chinese restaurants.

Changes

I just came back from dropping off a wedding present for my friend Michael, who recently got married in Salt Lake City to a beautiful girl named Lessa. Michael was my best friend in middle school and at Church through high school; he was the first person I came out to at the beginning of senior year. We drifted apart a bit over our respective college years: he went off to BYU in between a two-year mission for the LDS Church, and I went off to Amherst. With the help of the Internet and cell phone technology, we stayed in touch through the years. Now he's a married man. Alas, I can't go to his reception on Saturday because my brother is getting married in San Diego that same day, which is why I'm in California right now. Apparently it's marriage season.

I think I've harbored a lot of pent-up angst about my brother's wedding relative to marriage equality. While I'm here supporting his decision to marry the woman of his dreams, it irks me to think that my brother wouldn't vote for gay marriage so I could do the same with a man I want to spend the rest of my life with. Last night, on the way back from the airport, my mother and I had a long and intense discussion about my anger about this issue. The personal, I fervently believe, is political. It's not pleasant to think of my own Republican-voting family as political enemies, but that's what they are. It's not a game that I want to play: apocalyptic evangelicals are the ones who advance an us-versus-them mentality against gays and immigrants and career-oriented women and minorities. It's hard to be "at peace" and "happy" when someone is attacking your fundamental rights. The question, of course, is whether marriage is a fundamental and inalienable right. The most recent New York state decision says that it isn't, because the state has a vested interest in certain family environments for the protection of children. It seems an intuitive truth that marriage has accrued social meaning beyond its function as the start of a heterosexual family unit. That's why octogenarians and sterile people still get married: because it's an affirmation of their love for each other and because it provides larger and legal recognition of their commitment. Marriage evolves. I'm thinking of sneaking something subversive and ambiguous into my toast for my brother. Something like: "I hope that you two will always remember the commitment to each other and to God, and I hope that you will always work hard and take responsibility for the successes and failures of your marriage." In other words, don't blame gay people for what happens.

It's weird being back in Moraga. Some things - like the big pot of borsch that my mom makes whenever I come home - never change. Other things, like the giant Orchard Supply and Hardware, do. They're finally tearing down and rebuilding the old Moraga Barn building on School Street. It used to be an alcoholic establishment called the "Moraga Bar," Decades ago, the town made the proprietors change the name so that it wouldn't look so glaringly family-unfriendly. so the owners painted on an "N" and made it the "Moraga Barn." Funny how semantics matter.

Speaking of changing communities: The California State Supreme Court ruled today that local and regional bans against big-box stores (specifically) Wal-Mart, are completely legal and non-discriminatory. You can read about the decision here.

An Omelette Recipe and a Book Review

So I made the most perfect omelettes I've ever made two days ago. Turns out what I've been missing all these years is a rubber spatula; you know, the kind with the flexible edge that you use to mix batters? That seems to be the only kind that's able to get under the set egg and clean it off the skillet. Here's my recipe and approximate directions for my perfect omelette:

(For 2)
5 eggs, beaten
A bunch of spinach
1 cup shaved parmesan
Half of a chorizo (substitute ham or other protein)
Salt and pepper to taste
1 clove garlic
Vegetable oil

Start the garlic in the vegetable oil and sauté (half) the spinach on medium. Add (half) the chorizo or whatever meat you have. Once both are cooked through, move the dry ingredients into a single circular layer in middle of the pan, and pour (half) the beaten egg into the skillet until everything is covered. Lower the heat, and let the egg cook for about seven to ten minutes. Poke constantly at the outer rim of the omelette with your rubber spatula, and turn the skillet to let whatever runny egg is still at the center of the omelette come to the edge. Sprinkle in the cheese and let it melt. After seven to ten minutes, the bottom of the omelette should be cooked and should come off pretty easily all the way around. Dig your rubber spatula into one side of the omelette and, using your finger (or an extra spatula), fold the omelette over. Flipping, if you can do it, would be pretty cool here.

That's a perfect omelette.

Oh, and I also finished Christopher Moore's Lamb, The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal. It's a good summer read, although Moore might have done a better job of separating out the biblical stories of Christ's life to be a touch more authentic. The characterizations are zany, and the dialogue is zippy and laugh-out-loud. The premise of the story is fantastic, and it highlights why the modern evangelical movement (as well as any Christian denomination that has the gall to announce itself the one true church on Earth) is narrow-minded and pig-headed. It's not that Moore writes non-fiction; it's that the universal truths in all religions of the world show such a claim to be as archaic as thinking that we're the only intelligent life in the universe. The possibility is just too great for that to be truth. The other aspect of Lamb that I appreciated was the humanity that Moore brought to Christ the person. Sometimes, in the midst of all of the parables and the sermons and the miracles, we forget that Jesus also farted and burped and cursed and ate too much garlic and got dirty and laughed and rough-housed. That's what makes him so appealing as a leader: he was, as much as he was the eternal and glorious Firstborn, a real mortal with his own faults.

I started at the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network (GLSEN) yesterday, but I won't be going back until mid-August when I return from vacation, so I'll post about that when I know more about it. I'm also (maybe) going to the "Americans in Paris" exhibit at the MFA tonight, so I'll post about that later.

Finally, the biggest news in the GLBTQ community is, of course, the latest ruling from New York's Supreme Court that the denial of gay marriage does not violate the state's constitution. I am still shocked that the majority would use the vocabulary of "procreation" to justify it as a POSSIBLE ground the Legislature might have considered. I believe Chief Justice Kaye was correct in saying that there was a fundamental consitutional right at issue: "The Court concludes, however, that same-sex marriage is not deeply rooted in tradition, and thus cannot implicate any fundamental liberty. But fundamental rights, once recognized, cannot be denied to articular groups on the ground that these groups have historically been denied those rights." The full decision can be read here, and Chief Justice Kaye's dissent begins on page 43.

Some Kind of Weird Double-Speak

I'm warning you right now: there are going to be lots of posts addressing intersections of sexuality and Mormonism. Here's a second one.

While browsing the Church's website recently about the ABC Nightline story on the LDS Church and homosexuality on 7 June 2006, the Church's press arm insisted: "We believe the standard of morality is clearly defined and applies to all of God’s children. The Church teaches chastity before marriage and complete fidelity within a marriage. Marriage is also defined by God as the union of a man and woman, and we are not at liberty to change that definition." [More of the Church's delicious defensive crap can be read here.]

These three sentences encapsulate the impossible position that the LDS Church puts its gay members and other LGBTQ individuals. The statement was in response to a gay former member who stated that: "There is no place for me in the gospel as a person who never married." Clearly, there is no point to following the laws of chastity to "save yourself for marriage" when YOU CANNOT GET MARRIED. What really gets my goat, though, is the blatant hypocrisy of the statement that "we" are not at liberty to change the definition of marriage as set forth by God. If I'm not mistaken, the Church decided (of course, only with God's permission through "revelation") in 1890 to change the definition of marriage to the union of ONE man and ONE woman upon political pressure for the Territory of Utah to join the United States. So, apparently, God can change the definition of marriage from polygamy to monogamy to satisfy the Church's political and financial situation (actually, according to LDS doctrine, polygamy continues to be the Lord's preferred and endorsed mode of martial bliss in the hereafter), but only if his servants feel the arbitrary urge to proclaim it His will that it be so?

Who is leading this Church? And will they please get their heads out of their asses?

Talk About Security at Home

If I had my way, the only crimes that would face capital punishment would be male-perpetrated domestic abuse and violence against women and children. Period. Why society lets abusive men get away with these atrocious crimes is beyond me. Even more appalling is the thought that one of these monsters might be an elected public official. Impossible? Think again.

My roommate is interning with Mass Alliance, a coalition of progressive groups in Massachusetts, and has been volunteering on Melissa Murgo's campaign for State Representative out in the sixteenth district (Worcester). Murgo is running against John Fresolo, who, according to various press and personal accounts, deserves to be locked up and slapped around for all of his stupid and violent antics against his family and his political opponents. Fresolo came to Beacon Hill in 1999 out of a four-way race on the local strength of his father's name. On his own, he wouldn't be qualified to pump gas at a full-service station. Since taking office, he's ripped off tax payers by requesting per diem money for travel beyond the number of days that the General Court is actually in session. His politics are outdated and out of synch with the changing demographics of Worcester and the state. Even his own party hates him: the Mass Scorecard gave him a C for his voting record with the platform of the Massachusetts Democratic Party (and it's not even on respectable issues like state spending, either; it's because he voted against fundamental rights like gay marriage and for giving corporations tax breaks).

Murgo, who graduated from BC and holds an MPA from Framingham State College, worked for Fresolo, and that experience actually made her want to run against him. Two years ago, she lost 54% to 46%. The campaign was a nightmare: Murgo's car was keyed (the assailant couldn't even spell "whore" right), shot at with paint balls, and almost run over by Fresolo himself. Murgo lost even after news had surfaced that Fresolo beat his wife. This time around, Murgo is giving it another go after the Worcester Telegram and Gazette revealed that Fresolo was under investigation for giving his thirteen-year old daughter a BLACK EYE. Basically, a stinking sack of shit could represent Worcester better, because at least a sack of shit wouldn't think that a good time is battering the most vulnerable members of our society (although, baffling enough, the conventional reaction around Worcester seems to be "hitting your wife is one thing, but hitting your kids is just crossing the line).

Murgo is giving Worcester one better; she is running on a progressive platform of investment in education and in Worcester's transportation infrastructure. Fresolo is in a much more vulnerable position: he can't call on the slimy Tom Finneran anymore for financial and political support, and many Worcester endorsers that supported him two years ago are staying out of the race.

How this twit has managed to stay in office this long is a mystery to me. Worcester apparently loves incumbents. But, this time around, even Helen Keller would tell you that Fresolo's pathetic ass needs to go. Initial polling suggests that Fresolo's approvals are hovering around fifty percent. To really kick him in the crotch, though, Murgo will need a lot of grassroots and financial help, especially since she only took out papers in April. Building on her impressive momentum from 2004, however, and with news of Fresolo's own criminal doings, Murgo has a real and significant shot in the sixteenth district.

To learn more about Melissa Murgo's campaign, visit her (unfortunately amateur) website. You can also donate to her campaign by sending checks to: The Committee to Elect Melissa Murgo, 179 Delmont Avenue, Worcester, MA 01604.

The Real Meaning of Pride on July Fourth

I planned to submit this to the Advocate, but they don't print more than two pieces every two weeks from any single author. Which is too bad, because this was by the most fun of the three opinion pieces I've written. I sent it to a couple of other news outlets, but no one picked it up in time for July Fourth. So I'm putting it out there myself.

Happy Independence Day!

# # #

Barely one week after I cheered on the parade at the Heritage of Pride in New York, I’m getting ready for a different kind of pride march. At this march, however, there won’t be any sequined jumpsuits or outrageous wigs. Nor will there be a thumping beat or a catchy dance mix for me to hum along to. Instead, the marchers will wear dangerously out-of-date tri-corner hats and gaiters, and the fife-and-drum corps that toots and pounds its way across the historic town common in Lexington will just have to do. These sins against fashion and the goddess Madonna are understandable, I suppose. It is, after all, July 4, and it is the real meaning of this American holiday that gives me the reason, the right and, some might even say, the obligation to celebrate my pride as a gay American.

Each year on July 4, we Americans take special time to regale each other with the story of the founding of our country. The Boston Tea Party. The midnight ride of Paul Revere. The shot heard ‘round the world. Thomas Jefferson’s marathon writing of the Declaration of Independence. The miserable winter at Valley Forge. And, finally, the surrender at Yorktown that made the United States of America a reality. These were the stories that I learned by heart long before I even became a naturalized citizen of the United States; something about the boldness, self-sacrifice, and passion of the history makes it riveting and powerful. Sometimes, however, the fundamental philosophies and events of American history gets twisted just a little bit beyond the facts, with disastrous results.

“Traditional American values” – and its multiple variations – has become one of the most commonly used slogans to attack the GLBTQ community. Take, for example, the press release recently issued by Representative Steve King (R-IA) after the House passed his amendment gutting H.R. 5576 of funding for the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center. According to the LAGLC, its mission is to provide “free and low-cost health, mental health, HIV/AIDS medical care and HIV/STD testing and prevention,” as well as “legal, social, cultural, and educational services, with unique programs for seniors, families and youth, including a 24-bed transitional living program for homeless youth.” According to Representative King’s office, however, this mission constituted an offense “radically opposed to traditional values the overwhelming majority of Americans hold dear.”

What is so horribly un-American about the LAGLC? Several words from the Center’s mission statement jump out at first glance: “testing and prevention,” “educational services,” “transitional living.” By any measure, then, patrons of the LAGLC seem to be trying to lead conscientious, safe, enlightened, and self-sufficient lives. It is, no doubt, a difficult struggle for these brave souls to face down their worst demons. But the same bold spirit and passion that drove the American colonists in 1776 drive these gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender Americans today to make their own personal revolutions to become active members of society. I know of no endeavor more traditional, more moral, and more American than that. To Representative King, I say this: Find me a more worthwhile cause than aiding and celebrating those who are working hard for the American Dream of a brighter future, and you can have your money back. And take your bigotry, too.

The problem with the misappropriation of what is and what is not traditionally “American” goes beyond a question of morality. Dare I say it: despite the best efforts throughout history of delusional, self-proclaimed prophets like “Lemonade Lucy” Hayes, America has never been about moral values. Fortunately, the Founding Fathers were smart enough to realize that morality is a flimsy concept malleable to the corrupted touch of the powerful. So, instead of creating a nation around “who we are” or “what we believe in,” the Founding Fathers made America about how it is that we go about expressing our identities and our beliefs. You want to be an American? Then participate in republican democracy. Support equal protection under the law. Fight hard for equal opportunity, and take personal responsibility if you are lucky enough to have one (or even two). Respect your own and others’ life, liberty, and pursuits of happiness. Their aim was to create a set of guidelines that would enable everyone to contribute to the public good: whether singing in a church choir or in a drag show; whether wearing leather chaps for calf roping or for a night out; whether a family has one father or two or none at all. For one group to tell another that it is not and cannot be American is not only one of the most repetitive tragedies in the history of the United States, but also, not coincidentally, one of the most unpatriotic things an American can do.

When my mother took the immigrant naturalization test in 2001 to bring herself and me into the American family, she did not have to answer any questions about the proper name of the Christian god or the right number of people that constitute a family. The test checked that she was familiar with our political process and our shared history, and then it asked her to take an oath to the effect “that I will support and defend the Constitution and laws of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same…” My political pride in being an American, in supporting and defending the Constitution, and in bearing true faith and allegiance to the United States is the same pride that tells me that I am valuable as a social and sexual being. Opposition to progressive GLBTQ rights and equality in the name of traditional American values is just one more in a long and historic list of misguided fits of moral self-righteousness. I have faith that this, too, shall pass, like the many failed reactionary campaigns before it. In the mean time, I’ll add to my red, white, and blue some extra touches of orange, yellow, green, and purple. And I’ll wave my flag high, proud to be gay because I am proud to be an American.