Third Freedom
One of the issues in our complicated world today is the surfacing of the Third Sex. Gay people. LGBT. Unicorns. I don’t ever think it’s an issue, really. Third Sex isn’t abnormal – it’s as natural as people being social animals. It’s not their fault that they were born genetically different from straight people. And another thing that I don’t understand is the discrimination they get from the religious and/or conservative sectors, constantly pointing out that gays weren’t inscribed in the Bible and that they don’t have a place in the Kingdom, that it’s a bad thing, that somehow it’s considered as immoral or a sin. Like, seriously? I don’t understand. I don’t
ever understand. But then I don’t really understand them in the first place.
I won’t be a hypocrite and say that I’m their number one supporter and that I have a shirt that says “Team Gay All The Way” and flaunt it around our neighborhood, because I’m not and I don’t. Confession time: 1) I also once look secretly at them from head to foot and then back again, and form malicious and totally-discriminating thoughts about them inside my head. And it always makes me feel bad every time, a bad hunting feeling. I always feel bad that I once thought that they look weird and dress weirder and talk weirdest. 2) I got scared of them (and some of them until now), because it felt like if they look at me, they could kill me; if they talk about me, I would kill myself. They are the most honest people walking in this world, so honest to the point of being frank. With no holds barred. And with a fragile confidence like mine, if they say something negative-but-true about me, I would rather lock myself in my room and die and decay there, than continue living with a completely zero percent of buoyancy.
But if I could go back in those times and start all over again, respect them more and not think of what I used to think of them, I would. In a heartbeat. No questions asked. But then I would need to start high school and experience awkward things again (which will be a nightmare), and I don’t have a time machine anyway (since I’m neither Phineas nor Ferb). So maybe, if I can’t redo my past actions, I might as well rethink about the present and future ones.
I
definitely should, since my friends are taking that trodden way. I feel so guilty that I still think of undesirable thoughts every time I remember their true gender preferences. I think about it and then still can’t believe everything – and worse, blurt out detrimental adjectives about them. I haven’t told them about my feelings regarding this matter because: 1) I assume – heck, screw that – I am
sure they won’t like it, and 2) we’d have big, bitter trust issues, which 3) will stain our crystal clear friendship, which 4) we don’t ever wish to happen. I always keep in mind that these things are normal – friends who need to out themselves and are then outing to me – and that there is nothing wrong with being and acting what they really are. I always keep in mind that they’re outing to me because they trust me. And they have me in the upper part of their “Most Awesome People List” so they feel that they’re obliged to have cheesy heart-to-heart talks with me (which I should treasure since trust comes as frequently as rain comes in a desert country). I hope I’d be able to overcome this dangerous dubiousness and discriminating opinions. They are my friends, and it doesn’t matter if the boys like the boys and the girls like the girls. As long as they are happy and not faking it, who am I to judge them?
“Being in a relationship, that’s something you choose. Being friends, that’s just something you are.”
© Tiny Cooper, “Will Grayson, Will Grayson” (John Green and David Levithan)
So what do I think of the Third Sex? I freaking think they’re freaking amazing –
amazing, meaning as amazing as true gays like Elton John, Ellen DeGeneres, Adam Lambert and my new hero/heroine, Tiny Cooper. I’ve read about Tiny in this novel,
Will Grayson, Will Grayson, written by no less than John Green (with David Levithan as a co-writer). The story surprisingly talked about gay people, gay-dating, gay musicals, gay friends, gay Tiny Cooper (plus the straight Will Grayson and the gay Will Grayson). And it’s a good novel. It teaches a lot about them and how they feel, and it made me understand them more (and falling, and Schrödinger’s cats, and learn some pretty swear words along the way).
But who gives a damn, really? It’s their choice. It’s their life. It’s where they are truly happy. It’s the fulfillment of their whole contentment. It’s their source of freedom. Why would we ruin something that makes them whole? If we think – selfishly think – that they are immoral, unacceptable and intolerable as a part of our society, what we do with them – thinking what we think about them, judging how we judge them – doesn’t that make us horribly
more immoral than them? Doesn’t that make us even
worse? Quoting the song of the mother of all gay rights, Lady Gaga, “Rejoice and love yourself today, cause baby you were born this way. No matter gay, straight or bi, lesbian, transgendered life, I’m on the right track baby. I was born to survive.”
Who are we to prevent their happiness – and to doubt Lady Gaga?
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Third Freedom
One of the issues in our complicated world today is the surfacing of the Third Sex. Gay people. LGBT. Unicorns. I don’t ever think it’s an issue, really. Third Sex isn’t abnormal – it’s as natural as people being social animals. It’s not their fault that they were born genetically different from straight people. And another thing that I don’t understand is the discrimination they get from the religious and/or conservative sectors, constantly pointing out that gays weren’t inscribed in the Bible and that they don’t have a place in the Kingdom, that it’s a bad thing, that somehow it’s considered as immoral or a sin. Like, seriously? I don’t understand. I don’t
ever understand. But then I don’t really understand them in the first place.
I won’t be a hypocrite and say that I’m their number one supporter and that I have a shirt that says “Team Gay All The Way” and flaunt it around our neighborhood, because I’m not and I don’t. Confession time: 1) I also once look secretly at them from head to foot and then back again, and form malicious and totally-discriminating thoughts about them inside my head. And it always makes me feel bad every time, a bad hunting feeling. I always feel bad that I once thought that they look weird and dress weirder and talk weirdest. 2) I got scared of them (and some of them until now), because it felt like if they look at me, they could kill me; if they talk about me, I would kill myself. They are the most honest people walking in this world, so honest to the point of being frank. With no holds barred. And with a fragile confidence like mine, if they say something negative-but-true about me, I would rather lock myself in my room and die and decay there, than continue living with a completely zero percent of buoyancy.
But if I could go back in those times and start all over again, respect them more and not think of what I used to think of them, I would. In a heartbeat. No questions asked. But then I would need to start high school and experience awkward things again (which will be a nightmare), and I don’t have a time machine anyway (since I’m neither Phineas nor Ferb). So maybe, if I can’t redo my past actions, I might as well rethink about the present and future ones.
I
definitely should, since my friends are taking that trodden way. I feel so guilty that I still think of undesirable thoughts every time I remember their true gender preferences. I think about it and then still can’t believe everything – and worse, blurt out detrimental adjectives about them. I haven’t told them about my feelings regarding this matter because: 1) I assume – heck, screw that – I am
sure they won’t like it, and 2) we’d have big, bitter trust issues, which 3) will stain our crystal clear friendship, which 4) we don’t ever wish to happen. I always keep in mind that these things are normal – friends who need to out themselves and are then outing to me – and that there is nothing wrong with being and acting what they really are. I always keep in mind that they’re outing to me because they trust me. And they have me in the upper part of their “Most Awesome People List” so they feel that they’re obliged to have cheesy heart-to-heart talks with me (which I should treasure since trust comes as frequently as rain comes in a desert country). I hope I’d be able to overcome this dangerous dubiousness and discriminating opinions. They are my friends, and it doesn’t matter if the boys like the boys and the girls like the girls. As long as they are happy and not faking it, who am I to judge them?
“Being in a relationship, that’s something you choose. Being friends, that’s just something you are.”
© Tiny Cooper, “Will Grayson, Will Grayson” (John Green and David Levithan)
So what do I think of the Third Sex? I freaking think they’re freaking amazing –
amazing, meaning as amazing as true gays like Elton John, Ellen DeGeneres, Adam Lambert and my new hero/heroine, Tiny Cooper. I’ve read about Tiny in this novel,
Will Grayson, Will Grayson, written by no less than John Green (with David Levithan as a co-writer). The story surprisingly talked about gay people, gay-dating, gay musicals, gay friends, gay Tiny Cooper (plus the straight Will Grayson and the gay Will Grayson). And it’s a good novel. It teaches a lot about them and how they feel, and it made me understand them more (and falling, and Schrödinger’s cats, and learn some pretty swear words along the way).
But who gives a damn, really? It’s their choice. It’s their life. It’s where they are truly happy. It’s the fulfillment of their whole contentment. It’s their source of freedom. Why would we ruin something that makes them whole? If we think – selfishly think – that they are immoral, unacceptable and intolerable as a part of our society, what we do with them – thinking what we think about them, judging how we judge them – doesn’t that make us horribly
more immoral than them? Doesn’t that make us even
worse? Quoting the song of the mother of all gay rights, Lady Gaga, “Rejoice and love yourself today, cause baby you were born this way. No matter gay, straight or bi, lesbian, transgendered life, I’m on the right track baby. I was born to survive.”
Who are we to prevent their happiness – and to doubt Lady Gaga?
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
Profile
Already several months had passed, and I am missing
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry more and more each fleeting day. There are just some things in life that we can never forget – especially that something that had given us knowledge, skills, strong relationships and a second home. I am glad that everything in the magical world is now at peace, since Voldemort (yes, I can now say his name; no need to be afraid) had died. I had secretly admired Tom Marvolo Riddle (Voldemort’s birth name) though, because of his intelligence, passion and love for magic. Wasn’t he very clever to think of and conjure his seven
Horcruxes to preserve his life, or form a clan of
Death Eaters who were very loyal to him and would give up their lives just for him to succeed? Not everybody can acquire that much loyalty from people these days. I do not, however, admire him for the way he had carried out all of his plans. He had a good agenda, his means just weren’t morally right. But he still is one of the darkest wizards of all time… and let’s leave it that way.
Oh, for all those who are baffled of what I’m saying here and who the heck I am, my name is
Christine Faye Ordas, and I am an alumnus of Hogwarts. I came from the bronze-and-blue-clad house of the smart ass witch Rowena Ravenclaw and her dictum
“Wit beyond measure is a man’s greatest treasure.” And yes, I know the wonderful Luna Lovegood (she’s such a darling) and Harry Potter’s first crush Cho Chang. I had just left Hogwarts last May. Right now I am trying to pursue a career in magical researches, literature and writing. It’s my dream to inscribe intellectual books, publish and sell them in
Flourish and Blotts for the future Hogwarts students’ use. I am also planning to credibly write for the
Daily Prophet, the magical world’s primary news bulletin. And of course, I will be very much honored to contribute to Mr. Xenophilius Lovegood’s
Quibbler (hence, my interest in magical researches). I have always found the Lovegoods a fascinating family, and I bet working with and for them will be very exciting. Or maybe, in Merlin’s beard’s time, I can write legends and bedtime stories like the famous – and wickedly brilliant – Beedle the Bard.
And that’s how my life goes these days. I am utterly missing my old school, my friends, the Great Hall, the bronze eagle knocker just outside the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick (the head of our house), Hogsmeade, the Quidditch matches (although I didn’t actually play for the house), the moving portraits, the castle ghosts, the pumpkins on Halloween, the giant pine trees on Christmas, Rubeus Hagrid’s (Hogwarts’ gamekeeper) tea and treacle fudge – even the crabby Argus Filch (Hogwarts’ caretaker) I miss. Maybe I can visit the school grounds sometimes and see how the magical world’s been doing since Voldemort died (I’ve been spending my months in the muggle world, you see). I’ve heard everybody’s been moving on and starting all over again; the ministry is back on work under Kingsley Shacklebolt; and Harry Potter’s scar haven’t been disturbing him since.
All is well, indeed.
And because of that, we should celebrate and drink firewhisky! Oh, I still don’t drink firewhisky; I can take butterbeer or tea or pumpkin juice – just not firewhisky, please.
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