By Ko Imani
[email protected]
BIG GAY WAR PARTY!
Anybody who's read my blog knows that I'm celeb-obsessed, particularly with what I call the "Big Three" of music (Madonna, Tori Amos and Bjork, of course). But whenever I try to write about celebrities and what they mean, it inevitably falls short of what I mean. Is talking about celebrities like talking about love? In "Playing By Heart," Angelina Jolie's character, Joan, says, "Talking about love is like dancing about architecture." Of course, then, the whole movie is about love! Perhaps that indirect art about the ineffable meaning of modern celebrity is the service that MTV's "Becoming" offers, but I don't think so. It's more like a glimpse of what celebrity offers, but, well, any true greatness of celebrity escapes it. Mere fame offers us nothing but titillation and envy, but greatness, greatness offers us a glimpse of what's possible. Great celebrities are about dreams and inspiration.
But I've realized that maybe I rely on them too much. I recently read an article in O, The Oprah Magazine about social phobia, and how people who have it have to get themselves hopped up to go out to public functions. They have war parties to prepare; they dance, listen to music or use substances to get high on their own shit so they can face the world. Now I'm the Martha Stewart of war parties, but I have them WAY too often! "Oops, must listen to the new Madonna before I go to the gym/grocery store/potluck!" That kind of thing. Not that there's anything wrong with media that makes you feel good, inspires you or that puts you in a certain mood, it's just that me, I use it for everything.
What does this have to do with anything? Maybe just that I know that war parties aren't a sustainable way to live. I can't rely on them forever. At some point I have to be able to show my face to the world without war paint. I have to be able to trust in my greatness without relating my worth to the ability or success of other people. I have to show up fully in my life without external stimulants.
If it's true for me, it's probably true for a lot of people, right? I believe that each and every one of us has inherent value and a shining destiny and purpose, but there are millions of people like me who don't live it or who can't see it. Oppressed people, and queer people in particular, often fall into a trap of believing that they're sinful, worthless or just not good enough; that's why so many of us are desperate for even illusions of intimacy and desire. We just want to feel loved, or at least loveable.
We may know somewhere deep inside that we have something important to offer the world, but even when we think so, many of us still look outside ourselves for justification and validation. We think we need someone or something outside ourselves to lift us up to where we belong, but the truth is that we can only do it for ourselves. No one else can empower us to claim our grandeur.
We are the ones we have been waiting for. Look inside yourself to believe it, then look in the mirror and see it, then get your butt out of the house and show it off.
Queer activist and author Ko Imani lives in Ypsilanti, Michigan, with his partner and their puppy. LGBT community centers' and PFLAG newsletters around the country print his FIRE IN THE LAKE motivational columns. Ko's must-read book, Shirt of Flame: The Secret Gay Art of War will be available soon.
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