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Brokeback Mountain and Moonlight, with Love

moonlightThis essay was published in the Durham Herald-Sun on Sunday, December 4, 2016.

 

When my older daughter was at Riverside High, the theater program performed “The Laramie Project,” a collaboration of author Moises Kaufman, people in Laramie, Wyoming, and members of the Tectonic Theater Project. It was performed first in 2000 and uses multiple voices to tell a real story, the 1998 murder of Matthew Shepard.  The event that precipitates the production, every time, is the brutal death of a young man murdered because he is gay.  The story begins with a tragedy.

Annie Proulx set her 1997 short story “Brokeback Mountain” in Wyoming. She opens with these words:

They were raised on small, poor ranches in opposite corners of the state, Jack Twist in Lightning Flat, up on the Montana border, Ennis del Mar from around Sage, near the Utah line, both high-school drop-out country boys with no prospects, brought up to hard work and privation, both rough-mannered, rough-spoken, inured to the stoic life.

This love story ends as Jack is murdered with a tire-iron after attempting, finally, to stop living a lie. Ennis offers to help Jack’s parents take his ashes to Brokeback Mountain. Jack’s mother, who Proulx implies has a clue and a heart, offers for Ennis to visit Jack’s boyhood bedroom.  Proulx describes what Ennis finds:

The shirt seemed heavy until he saw there was another shirt inside it, the sleeves carefully worked down inside Jack’s sleeves. It was his own plaid shirt, lost, he’d thought, long ago in some damn laundry, his dirty shirt, the pocket ripped, buttons missing, stolen by Jack and hidden here inside Jack’s own shirt, the pair like two skins, one inside the other, two in one.

Proulx’s prose and characters are so familiar I can visualize their gait, hear the cadence of their voices. I grew up loving men who are “inured to the stoic life.”  Texan Larry McMurtry co-wrote the screenplay with Diana Lynn Ossana for the 2005 film.  I have not seen the movie.  I knew too many boys and girls suffocated by a setting where they could not live the truth of daylight.  The only suicides I knew growing up were of people who others whispered about, often with a tsk tsking that implied death was better than living gay.  As one friend wrote, a town like my hometown is a place “you dearly love but never feel relaxed in.”

People have, in my hearing, used the words “Brokeback Mountain” as a derision, drawn from a visceral fear of men who are gay in secret. This is absurd, given these same people do not want anyone to be gay not in secret.  Fear of the undetected gay coupling is a nonsense that acknowledges God makes some of God’s beloved children gay, linked to a refusal to bless love between two gay people.  This nonsense is written into movies attended by congregations as a fellowship outing – where men marked as “effeminate” are mocked, used as comic relief in supposed morality plays or to accelerate comedy in self-loathing slapsticks about “family life.”

[Let those with ears to hear, please hear.  You know what I am talking about.]

I am grateful for the 2016 film Moonlight.  I am grateful the Carolina Theatre brought this to Durham.  The film is based on a play by Tarrell Alvin McCraney, and the screenplay was written and directed by Barry Jenkins.  McCraney and Jenkins offer a blessing that does not mock or evade hatred.  McCraney and Jenkins have also offered a story that shows a man coming out in a way not linked to death.  They wrote neither a comedy nor a tragedy.  They wrote a life.

In his November 4, 2016 essay “The Sad, Surreal Experience of Seeing an Audience Laugh at Moonlight,” E. Alex Jung writes:

It was a Friday night . . . and the screening was completely sold out. Early on, though, one scene made me realize I might have picked a bad audience: It’s in the first third of the movie, where our young hero Chiron is sitting at the dining table with his surrogate parents, Juan and Teresa (Mahershala Ali and Janelle Monáe). He asks them, point-blank, “What’s a faggot?” It’s a moment that feels like a gut punch. When I first saw it, I held my breath, waiting to hear what Juan would say. He explained that it was a negative word used to describe men who liked other men. Then came the next question, “Am I a faggot?” A group of women behind me started giggling at the first question and were full-on laughing by the second — so much so that they drowned out Juan’s response. I was perplexed: Were we watching the same movie?

I pray people will see the film. I pray people will hear and, eventually, not laugh.  And I fervently pray that children from Texas to Wyoming to Durham, North Carolina will see on screen the possibility of their own beautiful truth.

Holy Pride

This essay first appeared in the October 2, 2016 issue of the Durham Herald-Sun. http://www.heraldsun.com/opinion/columnists/amy_laura_hall/

Years ago, I was at a concert downtown to hear a vaguely Christian folk singer. He sang something that, at the time, I thought was profound: “With all the beauty this world has worth knowing, pride won’t get us where we’re going.”  I liked this so much I made these words the signature on my email account.  I now shake my head at my younger self.  Some friends could have written one simple question back at me: “What about the Gay Pride Parade?”

Last week, I participated in two different acts of pride. On Thursday, a group of Duke Divinity students led about a hundred people on a singing vigil through the new cafeteria on West Campus.  The women leading the procession carried candles, summoning us to continue one avowal: “We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes.”  This act was an act of lamentation.  We were lamenting racist terror in the U.S., most recently the killing of Keith Scott and Terence Crutcher.  We were singing to and with one another, committing to resist the pretense that racist terror is normal.  To my mind, African-American women are too infrequently encouraged at Duke to speak loudly and tell other people what to do, where to go, and what to sing.  So, this liturgy felt also like an act of courage.  Their words, their leadership, looked to me like holy pride – precisely the kind of pride that Duke needs more of if we are going to find beauty in this world and get where we need to be going.  Judging by the looks on many faces of people who were working in the new cafeteria, other people were grateful too.

Then, on Saturday, my daughter and I walked with thousands of people through Durham for North Carolina’s 32nd Annual Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Festival Parade, otherwise known as the “Gay Pride Parade.”  Noting the convergence of tragedy the same week, some participants carried signs of solidarity against racist terror.  Some people started up conversations with members of the Durham Police Department, perhaps in an attempt to understand another human being’s perspective face-to-face.  I was struck again by how diverse the group gathered was.  I know that sounds cliché.  But, truly, the Pride Parade is every bit as diverse as the North Carolina State Fair.  There were people in biker gear, people in cowboy boots, teenagers and people who can remember the first parade over three decades ago.  There were Christian groups and Jewish groups and at least one proudly affirming atheist (they were carrying a sign proclaiming this).  Even within the group from Duke, we were students and friends and faculty – some of us walking in solidarity, others walking out and proud for the first time.  Many, many people from across this beautiful state took the day to risk an unabashed celebration of our beloved selves, recognizing that, for that one day, everyone was on the same page on this one single, basic affirmation:  We are proud.

I have quoted thirteenth-century theologian Thomas Aquinas in this column before. He wrote many volumes on Christian doctrine and Christian virtue.  He did not affirm the holy beauty of people who are Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, or Transgender.  But he did write some very helpful things about a vice usually translated as “Sloth.”  For most people, the word “sloth” connotes sitting around on a couch watching bad television and eating take-out pizza for a week.  (Which might not actually be a disaster.)  But for Thomas Aquinas, sloth is a very particular, moral malady.  He suggests sloth is often connected to despair, and that despair often leads to an inability to go about the basic things in life that help us to flourish.  Not only does despair indicate a separation from hope in God, but that separation can lead people not to feel like eating, or walking around, or sewing, or dancing, or many of the other practices that are gifts of daily life.  Sloth is a kind of “sorrow,” he writes, because we deem “evil and worthless” the goods God has given us.  Thomas Aquinas even calls sloth a “mortal sin,” in that sloth involves our being fundamentally separated from the affirmation that God loves us and is with us.  Again, “when this state of mind dominates [someone’s] affections,” it can seem as if we will “never be able to rise to any good.”

By my reading of these two events, we were engaging in two different acts of holy pride, reminding one another that our lives are neither “evil” nor “worthless.” On both Thursday and Saturday, people resisted sloth, risking the appearance pridefulness for the sake of a virtue called pride.  In some Christian circles, these words will sound like nonsense.  I’m willing to risk that.

How Not to Argue Against HB2

This post originally appeared in the May 1, 2016 edition of the Durham Herald-Sun.

From the grocery store here in Durham to the elegant sewing shop in Carrboro, people are discussing what they think is the matter at hand with House Bill 2.  People are talking about bathrooms.  This piece of legislation was not a slapped-together debacle.  It represents a well-crafted strategy.  As Nina Martin wrote in her April 5 essay for ProPublica, “Tucked inside is language that strips North Carolina workers of the ability to sue under a state anti-discrimination law, a right that has been upheld in court since 1985.”  Martin quotes Erika K. Wilson, a law professor at the University of North Carolina who specializes in civil law, as saying “The LGBT issues were a Trojan horse.”  Martin further notes that this legislation is part of a “burgeoning trend in which conservatives are exploiting a backlash against gay marriage and transgender rights to push legislation with broad ramifications.” Martin quotes Katherine Franke, director of Columbia Law School’s Center for Gender and Sexuality Law, as noting these lawmakers “seek to unravel protections against race discrimination in public accommodations and other contexts.” Read more

Why I Am Christian and Pro-Gay

This op-ed originally appeared in the March 6, 2016 edition of the Durham Herald-Sun.

A North Carolina middle-school has started a support group for gay students and friends.  I celebrate this.  Adolescence is a fine time to receive attentive friendship and mentoring about sexuality.  My mother was a middle-school teacher.  She says it’s a time when kids begin to get their “stuff” together.  (She uses saltier wording around adults.)  We begin to sort out how to define our own style of fashion, practice our signature, and discover our gifts for arts or sports at the very time we are trying to accommodate to bodies that shift weekly.  It is tricky, finding your own “voice” when your voice cracks while trying to impress a peer.  Add to this what can be an isolating realization that your lack of conformity to the predictable Adam and Eve pairing was not just a periodic quirk of elementary school, but a solidifying desire to kiss someone of the same sex.   Read more

A House Divided

I write a piece for the Durham Herald Sun every first Sunday of the month.  Please consider subscribing and support a local paper in Durham.  Whether you live in Durham, care about politics in the South, or are interested in ways a post-industrial city with a major university functions and flourishes, the Durham Herald Sun is worth a subscription.  Thank you for considering this.  Here is my opinion editorial for this month.

Jesus’ words about a divided household are so well known that a popular North Carolina bumper sticker refers to them in passing. Jesus talks about the ruin of a divided people in the middle of an argument about whether his healing miracles are miraculous or demonic. Jesus is, of course, clear that he is healing people with the power of the Holy Spirit, not through the power of Satan. This is also the passage where Jesus specifies that the only unforgivable sin is speaking against the Holy Spirit. It is a dense and scary passage, in part because the specific parameters of the one absolutely unforgivable sin are unclear. The concept of a divided house is easy to understand, however. That a divided household cannot hold itself together makes logical sense. Read more

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