Question of the Day

[UPDATE: I'm moving this back closer to the top for a bit, because there have been some really lovely contributions in the comments that deserve more attention, and to encourage others to contribute their stories, too.]

In his acceptance speech for the 1993 Best Actor Oscar for Philadelphia, Tom Hanks noted:

I would not be standing here if it weren't for two very important men in my life. Two that I haven't spoken with in a while but I had the pleasure of the other night: Mr. Rawley Farnsworth, who was my high school drama teacher, who taught me to act well the part, there all the glory lies. And one of my classmates under Mr. Farnsworth, Mr. John Gilkerson. I mention their names because they are two of the finest gay Americans, two wonderful men that I had the good fortune to be associated with, to fall under their inspiration at such a young age. I wish my babies could have the same sort of teacher, the same sort of friends.

And the movie In and Out was born. But that’s not the point of this post.

It’s easy to forget that it was still fairly spectacular in 1993 to hear someone like Tom Hanks warmly acknowledge and express gratitude to gay mentors so effusively, although that it is still stuck in my memory is some indication of its import at the time.

When considering the legislation being presented in Alabama to ban gay-authored books (and those with even the remotest gay content), I was thinking about the priceless and unquantifiable contributions made to the arts by the LGBT community, and I was reminded of Tom Hanks’ speech, which celebrated the influence of two gay men on his life. I've had the fortune of being positively affected by a number of people, many of whom were gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered—teachers, friends, coworkers, mentors, artists in various disciplines, all of whom have inimitably enriched my life, though perhaps none quite so markedly and lastingly as Mr. Furious.

My friendship with Mr. Furious, which began half my life ago, has taught me about love, loyalty, pride, self-worth, self-expression, and communication, just for a start. He is a true soul mate, who knows me and understands me wholly—and generously accepts my flaws, even as he has seen me at my very shameful worst. We’ve studied, worked, written, made films, published underground newspapers, set poetry to music, laughed, cried, struggled, and succeeded together; I have few brilliant memories that don't include him. One of the best gifts I have ever received was a CD he burned for me on my 30th birthday last year, featuring a compilation of songs that evoked shared memories and accompanied by his written recollections of what each song evoked. They are songs that I love, because they remind me of him, but also because we love the same music, like we love the same movies and books. We have in-jokes that are almost old enough to drive.

I really can’t imagine what my life would have been like without him.

So, today’s question, as a counterpunch to the attempts to silence the voices of gays and lesbians, is this: how has a gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered person touched your life? Whether it’s someone famous, perhaps one of the writers whose work was mentioned in the post below, or someone you know, what has that person meant to you?

(I love ya, Mr. F.)