I recently enjoyed listening to the audiobook version of Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game and am now thoroughly enjoying the sequel, Speaker for the Dead. In this latter book, Card includes, in the mouth of a character, the following bit of wisdom:

Why is marriage necessary for anyone? Fools say, Why should we marry? Love is the only bond my lover and I need. To them I say, Marriage is not a covenant between a man and woman; even the beasts cleave together and produce their young. Marriage is a covenant between a man and woman on the one side and their community on the other. To marry according to the law of the community is to become a full citizen; to refuse marriage is to be a stranger, a child, an outlaw, a slave, or a traitor. The one constant in every society of humankind is that only those who obey the laws, taboos, and customs of marriage are true adults.

It’s unfortunate that Card understands the importance of legal marriage clearly enough to articulate it so well, and yet still wishes that his homosexual “friends” remain strangers, children, outlaws, slaves, and traitors.

I remember a few months ago seeing ads during Heroes for a new show called Kings. It looked kind of interesting–something about a modern monarchy that looked a lot like America–but not enough to make me go out of my way to watch it. A month or so ago, though, I came across an article talking about how Kings and another recently-launched show had been killed by poor advertising decisions. Both shows, as it turns out, have a strong religious element that might have appealed to a lot of viewers, but the network decided to downplay that element for fear of losing the interest of potential viewers not interested in religion. I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m an agnostic and I definitely would have been more interested in the show if I’d known upfront that it was a retelling of the David and Saul story from the Old Testament. As it turns out, I’m a fan of retold Bible stories. This is, in fact, why after reading that article I decided to check out Kings on Hulu. Nine episodes in, I can say this is one of the best shows made for television in recent years.

And you know who else the show producers should have advertised to?

(You’ll never guess.)

(Have you guessed?)

(C’mon, why do you think I’m even talking about this on Isocrat.org?)

That’s right: Us. The gays. One of the cool elements of the show that caught me by surprise is a subplot involving Prince Jack, the analog of the biblical Jonathan. You may be familiar with the common queer reading of David and Jonathan’s friendship as a gay romance; though the makers of Kings have not chosen to go down this path, they have taken a cue from Bible-reading queer theorists and made Prince Jack gay. Along with this comes a tragic love story and all the complications you might expect to see coming from a gay heir to the throne in a kingdom built on Judaic religious principles. Prince Jack’s subplot is a fascinating one that really adds to the shows themes of identity, destiny, and faith.

So the first season of Kings is still airing on Saturday nights on NBC, and you can catch up on missed episodes on Hulu. I don’t know whether a massive surge of Isocrat.org readers watching the show will convince NBC to order a second season, but regardless, it’s worth checking out just to see what an undervalued gem this show is.

(Oh, and David is cute. Kind of a young Heath Ledger.)

God is slightly gay.

(tip of the hat to Emily Pearson)

If more Republicans were like Meghan McCain, I’d consider switching sides.

I haven’t seen this get much press but it was a court case I was following, as a gay parent, with a great deal of interest.

Fla. Must Recognize Gay Adoptions, Court Rules

A lesbian couple, Kimberly Ryan and Lara Embry, had a child and secured their legal rights and responsibilities as parent in Washington.  Then they moved to Florida where they broke up and Kimberly, the birth parent, tried to keep Lara from visitation.  A lower court ruled that she could, citing Florida adoption law, but:

“Regardless of whether the trial court believed that the Washington adoption violated a clearly established public policy in Florida,” the judge added, “it was improper for the trial court to refuse to give the Washington judgment full faith and credit.”

This may seem like a small step for justice and the rights of GLBT and our children.  Judging by the press, no one much noticed.  But it’s certainly a big step for one parent, probably a set of grandparents, and particularly a little kid in Florida.  For me, this judgment is a huge relief, to know my state would likely have to respect the legal parenting established by other states.  That is the legal situation I find ourselves in here, in Utah.  I can relax just a bit more today to know stepping across a border in the United States won’t suddenly relive me, or my husband, or our children of rights or, especially for the adults, our responsibilities.

Last week in my writing critique group I read a friend’s story called “An Atheist Girl Marries Outside the Faith.” The premise, as the title suggests, is that a young woman from an atheist family is engaged to a young Mormon man. Apart from her father’s other objections to her marrying a Mormon, the primary conflict is over whether to have sex before marriage. She has slept with previous boyfriends and feels it’s important to test out sexual compatibility before making a lifelong commitment, but while her fiance is fairly open-minded, he holds firmly to his belief that sex comes only after marriage. Ingrid asks:

So what happens when we, me and you, have been married six months and I finally got you trained but we’ve realized we’re dead in the sack? There’s no magic. What happens then? We’re either stuck together, us and our lousy sex, or we go back on our promises. Those are bad options, Orson.

She argues that he’s being selfish to withhold this one thing from her, and he argues that sex is meant to be this wonderful, spiritual experience and can only be so after two souls are unified in marriage.

I’m sure we could have an interesting discussion about the merits and drawbacks of premarital sex here, but I’d rather save that for another time. What I’m interested in is the importance of sex. Although my friend does a great job of presenting both characters’ arguments convincingly, I was left wondering afterward what the big deal was. Is sex really the magical, life-changing thing that Orson sees it as? Is it rational for Ingrid to insist on it being a deal-breaker in an otherwise great relationship? I realized, though, as I asked these questions, that they reflect more about me than about the story or the characters. I won’t blame my issues with sex on my Mormon upbringing because my wife was raised Mormon and taught that sex is a fantastic, spiritual, fun, and often funny part of marriage. I, on the other hand, grew up believing that sex is a good thing, yes, but much less important than other, less body-oriented things. I suspect this attitude comes from my mom’s attitude toward sex, but acknowledging that doesn’t change the fact that I have a strong tendency to downplay the importance of sex and even to see any inclination that values sex as something to be ashamed of.

I think this is a particularly interesting question in the context of the LGBT community. On the one hand I see a desire to downplay the importance of sex so as not to be seen as perverts–to counteract the accusations that gay rights all boil down to validating “pig sex“–but on the other I see a desire to distance ourselves from the Puritanical prudishness of our opponents by celebrating sex. How can we argue the importance of sexuality, after all, without first acknowledging the importance of sex?

So I’m curious to hear your thoughts, Isocrat readers. How important is sex? Would bad sex be a relationship deal-breaker? If you removed sexual intercourse from the equation would sexual orientation still matter to you? What aspects of a relationship are more important to you than sex? Which are less important?

Here’s an interesting article from the New York Times presenting several perspectives on “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” A few highlights:

The military has very strict guidelines that monitor heterosexual relationships under official codes of conduct to prevent fraternization in the ranks, specifically in regards to public affection in uniform and dating among officers and enlisted personnel. Those guidelines would simply be adjusted to include same-sex relationships as well.

(Jon Soltz, chairman of VoteVets.org)

Senior officers in the U.K. would tell you that they faced a thousand greater challenges in their military careers than the challenge of integrating gay men and women.

(Craig Jones, British Royal Navy)

Uniformed leadership from the four-star service chiefs on down must therefore: 1.) clearly and firmly state a policy of absolute respect for all service members regardless of sexual orientation, 2.) incorporate an honest give and take in seminars and presentations designed to address myths and stereotypes and highlight the military service of gay Americans, and 3.) use existing systems of discipline, enforcement and medical care to insure discrimination against sexual minorities is dealt with expeditiously and justly.

(Edith A. Disler, U.S. Air Force)

Several people also present arguments in support of sustaining “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” It seems to me they all boil down to the locker room argument, as presented by Brian E. A. Maue, a professor at the U.S. Air Force Academy:

[A]n openly gay military would be the heterosexual equivalent to forcing women to constantly share bathrooms, locker rooms and bedrooms with men. Combining sexual preferences (i.e., lesbians with heterosexual women) would challenge American military commanders with privacy violations and dignity infractions that would reduce unit effectiveness.

And he has a point, I guess, but the thing is that lesbians already share bathrooms, locker rooms, and bedrooms with straight women. It happens in the military just as much as everywhere else in the world. The only difference “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” makes is that none of the women in military locker rooms are allowed to openly acknowledge their orientation. It doesn’t change the fact that they’re there.

In case you haven’t already figured this out, dear straight people of the world, if you choose to be naked in a public locker room or in a home shared with roommates, there’s a good chance a gay person will see your private parts.

Get over it. We do.

I think I came across this story years before but it was just brought back to my attention, and I find it to be a fascinating account.

Nate Phelps is the son of the infamous anti-gay Baptist Pastor, Fred, the man who thinks God hates, well, pretty much everything that’s homosexual or remotely tolerant of gays, from various countries to Fred Rogers.  My only personal experience with the Phelps clan was kind of lighthearted, but I remember looking at the kids they had with them, wondering what it’s like to grow up under such a patriarch.

Well, it seems some apples can roll a good distance from their tree.

Nate gives his account on his web site here.  Another, more detailed account was given in a speech, here.  It’s an interesting story, if you’ve got the time.  At least for me, it puts the gay community’s bogyman into perspective and reveals the motivations and humanity, however tragic, of the children that now follow in their father’s path.

Several years ago, when I was an active Mormon, the bishop of my ward went on a rant one Sunday about how he would never buy a Madonna CD because he didn’t want to contribute to her flagrantly sinful lifestyle. Or something like that. I found his position fundamentally stupid. Whether or not I like Madonna’s music has nothing to do with what I think of her as a person. (For the record, I like her music enough to own two greatest hits collections and one album that I very rarely listen to, and I have no opinion on her as a person.) I just don’t think I have to like a person or agree with all their opinions in order to enjoy the art they make. I try to look at each piece of art as an entity unto itself and judge it by its own merits. If I like an album or a book or a movie enough to buy it, then the creator is free to take the 32 cents she makes off that purchase and do whatever she likes with it. The money is no longer mine and therefore not my responsibility.

This anecdote comes to mind because I’ve recently begun to admit to myself that the fiction I write is speculative fiction–a mix of sci fi and fantasy. (The novel I just finished is about a cult of people with superhuman abilities who fly around in invisible jets.) As I come to accept this new layer of geekiness, it occurs to me that I should actually read some of the great works of speculative fiction that I have heretofore avoided for the sake of not accepting that stigma. I just finished the His Dark Materials trilogy (fabulous books) and have decided that next I need to read the Ender series.

Though I’ve read and enjoyed one book by Orson Scott Card before (Lost Boys), and own a collection of his essays, I’m a little hesitant about jumping into more of his writing because, as a recent commenter on Cog puts it,

I’d stay cleer of anything related to Orson Scott Card, as he’s made some of the most outrageously homophobic remarks I’ve seen in recent years.

Having read many of those outrageously homophobic remarks (including one of the essays in that collection I own), I have to agree that just about everything Card says on the subject of homosexuality makes my blood boil. More than once have I wanted to slap him and tell him he’s an idiot. I’ve had a bit of an inner debate, though, and concluded that I’m not going to let Card’s personal opinions, offensive as they may be, prevent me from judging his fiction on its own merits.

That said, Card and Madonna are not exactly parallel. Madonna has never lobbied to have my former bishop’s civil rights taken away, nor those of people he cares about. If you are a gay person or somebody who cares about gay people, I wouldn’t fault you for steering clear of Scott Card. But I’m going to read Ender’s Game and see what I think. And I’m 95% certain that I don’t feel like a traitor to the cause for doing so.

But just in case, I’m checking the book out from the library so Card doesn’t put my 32 cents toward his flagrantly sinful lifestyle.