We the People

As I got up this morning, I completely overlooked the Supreme Court Decision on gay marriage.  In my grogginess, I moved about getting ready for what I anticipated to be a long workday.  I made my way through my morning routine...shower, teeth brushing...”de-ashification” (lotion)...coffee... and getting dressed.  As I walked toward the front door, the man to whom I used to be engaged informed me of the Supreme Court's decision.  My response was nearly indifferent.  I replied with an "oh, that's good".  See, I was engaged to be married several months ago.  Since that time, I called off the engagement and the relationship for reasons that I won't go into here.  At any rate, I made my way down to my car only to discover that a huge panel underneath the car was broken and hanging off.  I realized that I wouldn't be able to drive to work as planned.  As my anger mounted at the impending car repairs, I made my way back into the apartment, called an Uber, and waited to be picked up.  All I could think of was the cost, the inconvenience, getting to work late, this “stupid” gay marriage decision, and how very alone I felt.
    
I got into the Uber car, and headed off to work.  As luck (or lack thereof) would have it, the driver was tuned into NPR radio.  The topic, of course, was gay marriage.  The pundits were all flexing their opinion muscles.  They talked about the significance, the implications, and the possible legal fights ahead. At first I listened, still indifferent.  Then, they paused to cut over to the live speech by President Obama from the Rose Garden.   That's when everything changed for me.  As Obama spoke about the history of this struggle and the progress of American society, I began to cry.  All my indifference melted away as I realized that while I was so very happy for all those who wanted to get married but could not, I was further away from my marriage moment than I thought I'd be at this point in my life.  This strange mix of grief and gladness would not let up.  As I made my way to work, all I could think about was how I'd missed my chance.  Yeah, I know that sounds a tad dramatic maybe, but it's hard to see "marriage" for myself right now.
 
Once my tears began to subside; my thoughts turned to those who will undoubtedly announce the moral decay of American society and the destruction of all things "godly".  It hurts to know that there are those in the world that would seek to keep me and my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters as second class citizens; and for what?  Before gay marriage was even a thought, heterosexual couples have made a career of entering into marriages lightly and subsequently destroying this “holy” institution.  Furthermore, even those who didn’t believe in God or even believed in things which directly went against God were allowed to take part in this allegedly holy event.  It occurs to me on this day, people of all backgrounds should consider this… Perhaps it’s not holy or godly or Christ-like to exclude certain people from being married.  I offer that perhaps it’s ungodly, or unholy to treat marriage as something disposable.  Perhaps it’s immoral to enter into marriages with insufficient regard.  Perhaps the shame should be placed on the devaluing of marriage rather than who gets to be married.  I don’t pretend to have all the answers but as a formerly married, formerly straight man now living as an openly gay man who now has the right to marry anywhere in my homeland, I have to say that my perspective is clearer than it has ever been.

The Bottom Line

For those who wish to take part in this new era of equality, know this…
Your marriage should NOT be just another option.
Your marriage should NOT be disposable.
Your marriage should NOT be for show.
Your marriage should NOT be for convenience.
Your marriage should NOT be entered into lightly.

For those who wish to decry today’s Supreme Court decision, know this…
Gay marriage does NOT change your relationship with your god.
Gay marriage does NOT infringe upon your rights or opinions.
Gay marriage does NOT diminish your faith.
Gay marriage does NOT make your marriage less special.

For ALL those who are or will be married, know this…
Love, honor, and respect your own marriage.  After all, it’s the only marriage you can both nurture or destroy.
 

The Dark Side of the Moon

It's a cool Saturday in a city just outside Atlanta.  I'm sitting in a hotel room trying to figure out how I'm going to write the words that will follow this sentence.  I'm all about giving my readers the moment and the truth; but this promises to be one of the more difficult things that I've written.

A few days prior to my 30th birthday, life was good.  I had a huge birthday bash planned.  My boyfriend at the time was handling all the arrangements.  I even had a decent and balanced perspective on turning 30.  I had managed to avoid wanting to hang myself from the ceiling fan or the shower rod because I was "getting old".  Other than being a little under the weather, I was doing well.  I decided to go see my family doctor for a check-up.  In general, I felt great so I didn't think much of it.  I'd always go in on a weekday, mid-morning, and always get my check-up results back the very next afternoon.  They were very efficient that way.

The following day, I called in for my results.  The blood work was still in a pending status.  The next day was the same.  On the third day, I spoke to my very favorite nurse over the phone.  She wasn't her usual outrageous and playful self.  Her voice was quiet and troubled.  She said, "Honey, when can you come in to see the doctor?".  Not being one to drag my feet, I made an appointment.  While she didn't tell me anything over the phone, I somehow knew what was unfolding before me.  About five days passed before I was able to make it in for my appointment.   I went alone.  My nurse and doctor came into the room and told me something that would change my life forever.  "David, we ran all your standard blood work.  You tested positive for HIV."  The words just hung there like a London fog.  My favorite nurse held my hand as tears rolled down my face.  The doctor began explaining the next steps but most of his words were just washed away with my tears.  

I've only ever cried so much one other time in my life.  I honestly don't remember the days in between the news and telling my boyfriend.  I was a mess on the inside.  Some who already know my story, have said that I am a remarkably strong person.  I don't really feel strong, but then again, this kind of strength is not the kind that advertises itself with fanfare.

I guess I decided to share this very personal part of my life for a few reasons.  As with any major life trial, one can feel desperate and alone.  I wouldn't wish the feelings I experienced during that time on anyone.  I've refrained from telling many people because of the stigma that goes along with having HIV.  I wish people were more educated but as with many things in life, until it affects you, you pay it no attention.  So, after making my way out of the "I'm gay" closet, I felt forced into yet another.

Here is what I'd like you all to take away from this moment that I've shared with you...

For those of you who have been diagnosed... You are not alone!  Find someone to talk to; perhaps a professional or a friend you can trust.  Don't go through this alone.  This hurts in a way that does not compare to many things.  Know that when the dust settles on your diagnosis, you will feel like living again.  You will thrive.  You will feel loved again.  Walk toward the light and know that while it may take some time to feel...normal...that time will come.

For those who don't know much about HIV or AIDS...  Google it.  Talk about it.  Understand it.  Life is entirely too short to think it couldn't happen to you or someone that you love.  You should also know that it's no longer a death sentence!  Provided I can reduce my road-rage, I will outlive most of those reading this...trust and believe!  You must understand how it's contracted, how to prevent it, and how to support those in your life who have it.  Stop being afraid of what you don't understand and  dispense with falling back on ignorance as an excuse for poor attitudes.

The Bottom Line:
At one time, having HIV felt like being on the dark side of the moon.  I was lonely and isolated.  I felt the cold of mortality creeping in.  Honestly, I felt like trash.  It felt like the end of dating.  It felt like the end of love and happiness.  It felt like the end of my life.  Once the fog lifted and I made the choice to educate myself and to keep on living; I was able to see that nothing could be further from the truth.  Have things changed?  Of course!  It has taken me a great deal of time, but I am finally finding the purpose in all this.  I hope that my story will inspire you to approach yourself and others with love and compassion.  HIV positive or not, we are all going through something and could benefit from the light of love.


Click here to learn about HIV.

Family Fallout

What happens when you are born into a family that is destined to fail?  Where do you go to find that sense of tradition and heritage?  I think back to my own family history and the answers to those questions seem further away than ever.  I was born into family "fallout", somewhere between belonging and not.  I'm the bastard son of my mom and my dad who were dating at the time.  My dad, who is African-American, was secretly married to an African-American woman.  He had a family of his own and a penchant for affairs with white women.  He would never marry a white woman though, because he is too much of a coward.   As daring as his affairs were, he wasn't daring enough to keep honest relationships.  My mother, on the other hand, was a divorcée with three children from that marriage.  They were Anglo.  I mention race because it plays a huge role in my life, as it relates to family.

When I was born, my mother still used her married last name.  My father was listed as such on the birth certificate but I was given my mothers married last name.  At some point, my mother decided I should go by my father's last name and proceed to use it regularly.  It wasn't until I was a teenager that she requested that it be legally changed.  Though a judge signed a name change order as a part of child support hearings, she never had my birth certificate changed.  To this day I am legally somewhere in between Ross and Jackson.

To complicate matters, I am the only child from either side of my family that is of mixed race.  I'm not Black.  I'm definitely not White.  I'm just me.  It's a shame how we lose ambiguity as we become adults.  The fog lifts and suddenly we see the world for what it really is...Black or White.  I was raised around "white" people and until I started trying to date, I felt no different than those around me.

I don't communicate with my father or his side of the family anymore.  There was a time where I tried but for my "black siblings", I think I represented their father's unfaithfulness and the damage that was inflicted upon their family by all his whorish behavior.  They were very polite but never put much effort into getting to know me.  I can't say I blame them.  My mother's side of the family is another story.  I was very close to my two sisters growing up.  I couldn't have asked for better sisters.  My brother spent most of his time at his father's place so we really didn't get to know each other until recently.  My relationship with my sisters has changed dramatically over the past several years.  I'm not sure why or how this has happened.  There was no definitive event that took place.  There has been no feud.  I honestly believe it's just our family "nature" taking it's course.  It's sad to see how far we have all drifted apart.  We barely speak, although I have made the majority of the effort to keep in touch.  They live in Oklahoma and travel here often to see friends and family(I'm not in that equation apparently).  The state of the "union" is not great.

After reading on Facebook about yet another trip here to Texas , one that I had no clue was happening, I decided to delete my siblings from Facebook.  I don't need a daily reminder that I am being ignored by my so-called family.  I'd rather not know they were in town at all if they won't bother to pick up the phone and let me know.  I've been relegated to a common Facebook acquaintance and as stupid as it sounds, it hurts.

The Bottom Line:

There are about twenty definitions of the word family in the dictionary.  The one that I find most intriguing is the definition as related to math (shown below).

Mathematics:

a given class of solutions of the same basic equation, differing from one another only by the different values assigned to the constants in the equation.

I realize now that we are all just "solutions" of the same basic equation.  We all have different values.  I see that it's time for me to release my understanding of the word Family and move on.  While there will always be the pain of "what could could have been", there is no sense in ignoring definitions that make more sense than the ones I've been using for years.  It's time for me to seek out those people that have the same values and build lasting relationships.  I always love a good math problem for any relationship woe.  

Tiger's Wood

Am I the only one who is not surprised by the Tiger Woods drama?  I don't know why everyone is SO shocked by his recent indiscretion or family "let-down".  In a country where you have better odds of surviving certain types of cancer than surviving a marriage, why should anyone really be shocked?

I think it would have been more shocking to realize he had been driving drunk.  While the story is not nearly as interesting as the vague statements continually released by Tiger, this goes to show you that nobody is perfect.  Maybe this is so shocking for some because of the pedestal these celebrities are placed on.  I've said for a long time that celebrity adoration is out of control.  We live in a media-obsessed world where there are very few laws to protect against the paparazzi over-drive we seem to be in the middle of.  I think it's time we all just take a giant step back from all things celebrity.

Tiger is a man.  He's a man who has women (and some men I'm sure) all over the world throwing themselves at him at every turn so they can be the next ex Mrs. Tiger Woods.  He's a man who lives in an American culture of disposable relationships, limitless power, unending influence, and staggering greed.  The American universe conspires against him.

The Bottom Line:
We live in a place where we always want what we can't have.  Like children, we want someone else's toy.  It doesn't change just because someone is in the media spotlight.  In fact, it may be worse at the "top" of the world.    Let Tiger and his family work out their issues.  The world will still be turning tomorrow and he will get back to golf soon enough.

Time & Punishment

Do you ever have one of those moments where you start to wonder if perhaps you are being punished for something you've done? Having wondered that...ever have a hard time figuring out what the hell that might have been? I know I do.

In January 2010 it will have been 7 years since I left my ex-wife, an idea that we both agreed was best. Since then, I have struggled in every way imaginable. My ex-wife has struggled to let go of the past. My kids have struggled more than any of us. They struggle to understand why things are different now. They struggle with hearing two versions of how the world turns. They get the narrow-minded, bigoted version with their mother and step-dad. They get the "realist" version from me.

I won't pretend that my decision to come out as a gay man hasn't come at a high price. It was, however, less about being gay and more about being honest with myself and everyone else in my life. Fast forward to today... I can't help but wonder if I am paying too high a price for that decision. Am I being punished for trying to lead an honest life? Sometimes it seems like the criminals in this world are the only ones who really enjoy life. Should I have kept lying? I feel like the answer to this line of questioning is a big fat NO...but I feel like I've served my time. I've taken my punishment. When is it time for me to join the land of the living again?

They say Karma is a bitch. I'm starting to think she's a bitch with the memory of an elephant. I need Karma to give me a damn break. I am not asking to get away with anything. I'm not asking that the effects of my decisions be wiped away for all time. I am being very realistic here...after all, I am a Virgo. I just want to take this moment to appeal to Karma and let her know...

I don't want to be wealthy. I just want to be able to provide for myself and my kids and be OK.

I don't want the romance of the ages. I just want to meet someone who is honest, loving, faithful, and sexy...not Gilles Marini sexy...but cute. I don't think that's too much to ask...is it?

I don't want a McMansion. I just want a home or apartment with room enough for me and my children.

I don't want the chauffeur driven limo. I just want something dependable that won't embarrass me or my kids while we are driving around. :-)

At any rate, I don't believe I want too much. I don't believe I want more than I deserve. I just have this nagging feeling that Karma has other designs on what my sentence should be. I can only hope for a little credit for good behavior to help get me out of what can only be described as jail.

Why the Mexico Rehab Killings Should Matter to You...

I was stunned by the Associated Press report today that gunmen in Juarez Mexico stormed a drug rehab center and executed 17 people on Wednesday. What I found most disturbing is that I believe this event represents a profound shift in the drug conflict. The implications are frightening. La Familia, the major drug cartel in Mexico, has been at war with the state and local government for years. Killing police officers, federal agents, witnesses, citizens,and children who got in the way of their day-to-day operations. Today's killings however, indicate what I believe is a new message. "Don't even THINK about getting off drugs". Think about it. One of the ways Mexico is trying to fight this "war on drugs" is to make rehab available. Fewer Users = Diminished Demand. After the events that unfolded Wednesday, however, many will be scared to get the much needed help that rehabs offer. The cartel has in essence secured the demand for their product by lining up these poor souls against the walls of the rehab center and killing them. It's like a pimp beating the crap out of his "girl" to make sure she doesn't think about trying to leave or get help. It's the same basic idea...only much worse. With over 1,400 people killed in Juarez already this year, we may start to see an increase in these "rehab killings".

I believe everyone in the U.S. should be VERY concerned that this action opens the door for the same such events here at home. Granted, the likelihood of that happening inland is lower but it's not at all impossible. I think rehabs in border states have the most to lose from this new cartel method. Rehab is a powerful tool in the war against drugs but real lives are at risk. I have family in Juarez, a sister-in-law and two young nephews. I worry for them being in the middle of such an earth-shattering climate. I can only hope that one day the U.S. military will not be spread so thin and can start to help Mexico remove the cartel once and for all. I believe a high-level of U.S. involvement is the only way to effectively put an end to the Mexican drug problem which is threatening to spill onto our doorways any moment now.

At the end of the day, we need to make sure that as relatives and friends, we do our part to squeeze La Familia and other drug cartels by making sure our loved ones stay away from drugs. Don't be afraid to talk to your loved ones about drugs. Don't take for granted that "your kid" would never...could never... Don't kid yourself. Drug abuse and addiction happens at every level and social standing. From community and church leaders to suburbia to the ghetto and everywhere in between. Pay attention to the signs and don't take for granted that as of right now...things like the Rehab Killings don't happen here in the states. Execution style murders could be coming to a rehab near you. Stay involved. Stay Free!

The Art of Rejection and Dentistry

What is rejection? At first glance this would appear to be an easily answered question. When one takes the time to really think about rejection though, one will find that the answer is not quite as simple as one might have thought.
I’ve found that rejection really has many facets. I should note that I choose the word “facets” for two reasons. First, there is the common definition… a facet being an angle or a side to something. Then I looked deeper and found that there is another meaning…one found in the world of Dentistry. I found this definition very intriguing. Facet: “Dentistry. A small, highly burnished (polished by friction) area, usually on the enamel surface of a tooth, produced by abrasion between opposing teeth in chewing.

Let’s start chewing…

What is rejection?

I feel rejection is the type of combo you wouldn’t find on a McDonald’s menu anywhere. There is the feeling or intention of the person rejecting, paired with the perception and understanding of the person being rejected. The act of being rejected is defined by the feeling of being rejected. In other words one doesn’t really exist without the other. If I don’t feel rejected then the simple fact is…I haven’t been.

What does Dentistry have to do with it?

Well if you look at it metaphorically, you can see that “opposing teeth” produce a highly polished side or “facet” to the tooth by way of friction! The two opposing people can in fact be “polished” or even perfected by rejection, which serves as “friction”.

I got all that from teeth?

Yes! I’ve recently been on both ends of what most would perceive as rejection. I was the person rejecting and then the person being rejected. I didn’t really enjoy being on either end of it to be quite honest. I don’t enjoy putting people through rejection and I don’t really care for being rejected either. If we start to look at rejection in a better light, we can see that it’s a very necessary part of developing character. It is painful but necessary. We can see that rejection really leads us to better and more appropriate opportunities. Rejection can teach us to look within for answers. Rejection polishes us and makes us brilliant and smooth around the edges. Whether it’s rejection from a job, person, family member, friend, or foe, see it as an opportunity to move in a better direction. See it as a way to find that perfect “place” in your life. There are of course those who will disagree with my way of thinking and maintain that rejection is useless and simply some people’s way of being hateful and hurtful. Really it’s all in how you look at it. You can choose to look at the glass as half full or half empty. The choice is always ours.

So, the next time you find yourself on the “wrong” end of rejection, take a moment to breathe and then remember that while the polishing process can be painful at times, it is needed to make us better.

A Dark Day for Good Dads Everywhere

As I entered the pristine court building, I found myself forced to partially undress for the second time in 20 minutes. I had gone to the wrong building at first. Gotta love those "airport screening" checkpoints that have now made their way to the court buildings of America.

These judges are tucked away in the deepest Harry Potter-esque corners of the building. So hidden are the judges, that most of the people who work there don't even have a grasp on where to find them.

I finally arrived at the appointed place. As I sat in the back of a large "holding area", much like a clinic or something...I couldn't help but notice all the different people. There were some very obvious single mothers (insert screaming children here). There were some less obvious delinquent dads (insert the “this is bullshit” facial expression). Then, there were those that were almost completely below the radar...the good dads. You could tell by their demeanor. They looked as if they worked long hours and slept even less all while managing to look nice for their hearing.

I sat for what seemed like years, afraid to even go pee, for fear that my name would be called and I'd miss the chance to enter the gates of Heaven or rather Hell in this story. Finally, "David Jackson", “Sandra Bullard", the harsh voice called out. I knew this was my time. For what, though, I had no idea.

"Cynthia", the case worker, took my ex-wife and me back to the tiny room to go over our case. Once we were seated I realized how dark this day was about to become. As a note, though I place Cynthia's name in quotations, it is indeed her real name. I will explain the deeper meaning of my using quotations later. “Cynthia's” demeanor immediately changed behind closed doors. While her mouth was saying one thing, her very being and belief system was saying something entirely different.
The unspoken communication was that she wanted nothing to do with me and that if I am here, sitting before her, then I must be something substandard. She no longer saw me. She saw every dead-beat dad that she has worked with, in what I am guessing has been her too many years on the job. She placed her scowling glance on me as though I had just insulted her dead grandmother or something.

After producing all of my documents, which “Cynthia” mostly dismissed as a snow-balls chance in hell, we were asked if we could all come to an agreement on child support. My ex-wife replied that she would be "fine" with the lesser amount per month (lesser by $50 mind you). This new amount, though, was nearly double what I currently pay for child support. Over three months ago, my hours were reduced at work due to the failing economy. Please know...if I were working more than 25hrs per week at the moment, I'd have been happy to entertain this lunacy. Since I am barely able to pay things like rent, electric, water, gas, and food these days, I had to protest. Again, I was treated by “Cynthia” as if I was bothering her in a way that she may never recover from. Since we could come to no agreement, much less any actual or even literal communication about a compromise, we had a hearing set for that same afternoon.


It is 1:30pm “Hearing Time” - I am sitting alone for just a moment, in the courtroom with my head bowed in what some might have mistaken for a prayer. It was more a moment of reflection. I felt like I was staring at an empty vase while convinced it was full of water. What followed would be nothing short of poorly scripted TV court room drama. "Cynthia" called me to the stand as the first witness. She proceeded to ask me very unclear questions...hard questions...difficult to quantify questions. Then, as if any of us has EVER discussed this, she asks, “What do you think you should pay?". "Cynthia" wins the Vile Question of the Year Award. She deliberately set me up to look like a fool on the witness stand. How was I to answer a question like that when we had never discussed any "numbers" but hers?

Later, there was the calling of Sandra Bullard by "Cynthia". Now my ex was on the stand taking “soft-ball” type questions like: What year were you divorced? Have your living expenses increased in the last 5 years? Do you think it's in the best interest of your children to have child support increased? Sandra didn't even need a bat in hand to knock those questions out of the park.

"Cynthia" decided to turn the last 5 minutes of the CHILD SUPPORT hearing into a visitation hearing, she asked... “Has Mr. Jackson exercised his right to visitation?” Sandra replied: "Yes", but then felt the need to add to that. She stated that there were several times this year that I had cancelled with little notice. I would like to point out that this part is true. I’ve been forced to cancel several times since my hours were reduced because I couldn’t afford the extra money for food or gas. I would wait until the last minute in a vain effort to find a way to come up with the means to have them over. Then there was the lie, a lie under oath mind you. Sandra said, "or sometimes he will just not show up". I will shout it from the highest mountain top that this was a bold-faced LIE! The ONLY time I would EVER simply not show up to see my kids and NOT let her know, is if I were dead or incapacitated. I am not sure that my ex knows the line between fact and fiction any longer. I believe those lines were blurred long ago and she effortlessly moves between the truth and fiction on a regular basis now.

In the end, the child support was increased dramatically even though all evidence suggests that it should not have been. What I took away from my very first experience of this kind is that “Cynthia” personifies everything that is wrong with the Child Support and Family Law system in Texas and many other states today, hence the quotations on her name. “Cynthia” is an “ideal”, a “break-down”, a “disconnect”. I was humiliated and patronized in private and on public record. The response to “dead-beat dads” has been to make all dads who are non-custodial parents suffer immensely. The law has been taken too far to the extreme and people like “Cynthia” have been damn near encouraged to approach their job with complete disregard for the father’s financial situation or the facts.

I am truly saddened by the events that took place and even more troubled by my new-found awareness of things. I am making it my personal mission in life to give yet another voice to this full-grown problem. Something has to be done to make this a truly fairer system for fathers everywhere who are keeping true to their responsibilities yet still being penalized for it. I will NOT go quietly.

Stay Free!