Out of Charleston...

Thanks to United We Stand (which I really need to pay better attention to), I got heads up on this bit out of the Charleston City Paper (my home towns version of CityBeat): When I woke up this morning and decided to be gay.

Um, can I change my order, please? I choose eggs with a side of civil rights.

Maybe all of this choice stuff comes from the choice to come out. And that, I'll give you, is a conscious choice.

But it's not a choice about liking girls better than boys. Or being a Carolina fan as opposed to a Clemson fan. It's a choice to tell the truth about who you love and who you are, to live honestly, openly, and authentically and continue evolving into the best you possible.

How about this frightening choice? A Kentucky Senate committee has unanimously chosen to approve a bill that would prohibit unmarried couples from adopting children or being foster parents. If you're keeping track, that doesn't just affect the GLBT community, it affects unmarried straight couples too. Meaning, even Angelina and Brad couldn't adopt in Kentucky if this hateful little bill passes.

Most of my GLBT friends have, out of sheer necessity, delved into law, financial planning, and HIPAA regulations in an attempt to protect themselves, their partners, and families. If you're GLBT or a GLBT supporter in this generation, you better be ready to study, make phone calls, write letters, and march.

If I sound frustrated, I am. The California Supreme Court is pondering Proposition 8, so I'm feeling a bit edgy. On the other hand, I have people who care enough about my rights and life to study, make phone calls, write letters, and march.

And when my alarm sounds, I will sit up, swing my legs over the side of the bed in the early morning light, take a deep breath, and say, "Universe, I'm SALLY ALBRIGHT, and I choose me." (It's more invigorating than coffee.)

OK, OK, in the full argument, she relies on some pretty "typical" arguments about choosing to be gay or not... but, seriously, that's pretty advanced for the deep south. Seriously.

I still remember the day my BFF told me she wasn't able to stand my lifestyle anymore because, though she was very liberal, she just couldn't stomach the abomination.

And, seriously, she was a liberal.

And I'm addicted to the word "seriously." Seriously. Oh but note the picture above. That is what the paper decided to put next to the column. Seriously?