#borogoves

’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves

  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:

All mimsy were the borogoves, 

   And the mome raths outgrabe. 

"Il etait  reveneur le slictieux Tove, / sur l'Aloindre giray et vriblait / tout frivoreux vaguaient les borogoves / les verchons fourgus bourniflaient."

Borogoves - Timoka | Experimental, Electronic

I'm posting this iconic scene from When Harry Met Sally for Lauren, who needs happy, silly things today. 

Most of you know I'm quite attached to this film. I can recite most of it. The film inspired my story, Someone Like You (and a little ditty I posted a few months back). Nora Ephron (RIP) is a hero of mine. 

I'm fascinated by this story because her husband's transformation goes beyond just changing his mind about the LGBTQ community; he actually changed his language, a sure sign that he experienced a profound and lasting change.

The story that started this is here. If you have a story, drop me a line. Thanks!

______

My story is not a narrative. It's not a big realization, it's not an epiphany. It's not even really my story. But here I am to tell it again, in a place that maybe it can be read. Just a series of moments, little whispers rather than big shouts, of how Glee can make a difference.

My husband was raised to believe that gay people were gross. Not sinful, really. Not defying God. Just ew, why would dudes fuck dudes? Lesbians, whatever man, that's hot. But to him, queerness was only about sex, and it wasn't acceptable unless vaginas were the genitals involved, and then only for his titillation.

I won't really go into the lengths I went to counteract his views. A lot of it involved showing him some of my writing and him going, "UH NO," or talking about how maybe Dean and Castiel might have feelings for each other, and his response was, "Oh my god, ew." He used hate language, "gay" was an insult. And I couldn't get him to stop.

When I started watching Glee, he was dubious at first. He thought it was funny. But he wasn't into it. But then...slowly, and then all at once...he was a fan of Kurt. He paid attention to his story, he begged to watch the next episode. He wanted more. He wanted to see Kurt succeed.

He didn't really start watching--and changing--until Karofsky targeted Kurt in season 2. I think he saw himself in Karofsky, saw some hatred that came from fear and misinformation and a culture telling him it was cool to be homophobic. Is there internalized homophobia with my husband? Maybe a touch, I don't know. Not my business to dig into that, not my business to talk about. But he definitely went through a journey with Karofsky, which ended with him wanting forgiveness for him in the story of Heart/On My Way, enough that he sat and talked to me about it for three hours after On My Way aired.

So that was a bigger moment. But it was mostly the little moments that clued me in. Over time, I realized he wasn't using "gay" as an insult. He never used the word "fag." He stopped saying "ew" when he saw gay guys on my screen, stopped judging me for watching gay porn. He watched Glee, and other TV and movies, and didn't make fun of any homoerotic moments. He met gay people and wasn't uncomfortable with them. He was suddenly comfortable with making jokes about his own sexuality, talking about dudes that were handsome or who he'd turn for (Denzel Washington, for the record). He still likes lesbian porn, but he doesn't insist that lesbians are only in existence for that purpose. He accepts trans*people, and accepted my own journey into realizing that I might not be cis myself. He's opened himself up to so much.

I stumbled on this blog and thought I'd share it with my fellow writers/artists. It's a damn fine list--the basics we need to remember when we're overanalyzing our lack of this or that, or lamenting our inability to focus or turn out anything worth reading. I'm sure I'll refer to it again and again. My favorite (today) is #2:

2. STOP STOPPING

Momentum is everything. Cut the brake lines. Careen wildly and unsteadily toward your goal. I hate to bludgeon you about the head and neck with a hammer forged in the volcanic fires of Mount Obvious, but the only way you can finish something is by not stopping. That story isn’t going to unfuck itself.