I haven’t yet posted word one on all the recent suicides of young, gay men in this country — but you all already know how I feel. It would be an absolute understatement to say that gay men have saved my life in all the ways that a life CAN be saved.
Aside from my husband and our children, the most profoundly important people in my world are the magnificent gay men that surround me at all times. They are my friends, they are my confidantes, they are my fashion advisers, they are my creative partners, they are my lunch dates, they are my therapists, they are my sisters, they are my audience, they are my show, they are my champions, they are my heart.
We are a huge, raging, messy, magical, hilarious, dysfunctional, fierce, loyal, loving, luminescent family of writers, artists, performers, oddballs, and misfits…the people who spent their earlier lives always on the outside, existing there for what seemed like forever, our noses pressed with longing against the glass of acceptance and inclusion — while we waited for an invitation inside that never came. Eventually, we looked around and noticed that all the other scalliwags steaming up the window were FAR MORE INTERESTING than the beige, boring, ordinary bastards on the other side.
And so, there on the outside, we began to dance. And laugh. And rouge our cheeks. And paint our faces. And drape ourselves in glorious fabrics. And SING. And our song was so strong and so powerful and so alluring that we long ago lost interest in being let inside…and we created our own fucking party, our own Movable Feast, on the outside, where we belong.
So, if I could say something, anything, to all these young men and women who are taking their own lives because they are different and being bullied because of it, I would say this:
This magnificent party of which I speak? It is FOR YOU. It is YOUR party. YOU ARE OUR SPECIAL GUEST…and we are waiting for you — just like those who came before, were waiting for us.
We need your voice.
We need your vision.
We need your talent.
We need your spirit.
We need your heart.
We need your fight.
We need your song.
We need YOU.
This sweet, powerful song below is from The Gay Men’s Chorus of Los Angeles, of which one of my dearest friends — Todd Stites — is a longtime member (you can see his adorable, boyish visage at 1:19). These are the faces of the people who exist with me on the outside of the glass — THE OTHERS — and our side is so much more beautiful, so much more interesting, so much more welcoming, so much more loving than you could ever imagine — but, goddamnit, you just gotta trust us and stick around long enough to find out.
There is a time to dance — oh, and trust me, you WILL FUCKING DANCE. With us. With all of us. The music may sound faint to you now, and you may not yet know the words, but you will. Just follow the music.
We’re all waiting for you.
PS) All these flowery words of love and support aside, some things just NEVER change — gay men are STILL gay men. Proof? THE YOUNGEST, SMOOTHEST, SMOKIN’EST, HOTTEST PIECE OF ASS IN THE BUNCH…IS FRONT AND FUCKING CENTER.