A Queer in Muir Woods

Visiting my friend in San Francisco, we decided to take an afternoon trip to Muir Woods. Not sure what to expect, it was the strength of the redwoods rather than their height or age that took me by surprise. Their survival skills are numerous. Their tiny seed pods open in the heat that is generated by fires but fire by no means kills the trees. They are tall and thick enough to weather a forest fire as evidenced by the frequent burned out and blackened base of a tree approaching 200 feet tall. So they sprout from an inferno. If they were to burn and die, their root base is strong enough to sprout new growth in a circle around the original tree and establish a new circular colony outlining the original parent by the absence of a center. If the tree is cut down without the stump being removed, the same process occurs. This circular family structure allows for another impressive feature: if a tree falters or is structurally weak and begins to fall over, the circle allows the other members of the family to support it and let it live and grow for hundreds of years at angles crossing the center of the circle.

One designated stop at a tree stump gave the mandatory story of the rings - World War I ended here, Christopher Columbus sailed here, Jesus Christ was born here. These delicate and resilient structures have been around for thousands of years and it struck me as I looked at this worn tourist attraction that queers are older than all this (some possibly still living). The power of our gay families has been around, encircling us since far before the christ was born despite years of oppression, prejudice and hatred. To my mind, one of the most significant families was that of the christian god's son, known as Jesus. If we do away with religious dogma and internal homophobia (no one that truly important could be gay...), it is clear that he was gay and had a strong and loving gay family. Look at it another way. If you had a friend who never had sex, had one close female friend from whom he was inseparable but not married, the only other woman to whom he was that close was his mother, and he hung out otherwise with men exclusively, sometimes large groups of them, would you have any reason to believe he was not gay? Our gaydar would be all over that yet we have great difficulty in recognizing the obvious due to the traditional glory attached to his persona. I believe we, as gay men, could use the christian Jesus as an enduring example of the power of the gay family and what it can accomplish. Aside from a somewhat grisly death for most of them, they endured in a community of strength, mutual support, and compassion. It is the inheritors of their message that have permanently fashioned it into a movement of hatred and intolerance, in part as a means of fleeing from the obvious nature and sexuality of at least one manifestation of their tripartite god. Whether a believer or not, the changes this gay family brought about are profound.

Our gay families have endured and still thrive in strong and compassionate communities, some large and some small. The death of Robbie, a bartender at my favorite dive is an example of gay strength and resiliency. While I knew him, I am not speaking of Robbie rather the living, those who rallied around him and gave him the support and compassion he needed to die at home and with dignity. We as queers don't give ourselves enough credit for this probably due to the to the terrible ordinary part of our lives it has become since the plague. It is important to name those who helped. Michael, his companion, surly and compassionate to the end, providing meals, clean clothes, home and friendship. Steve, his employer and friend who spent time transporting him to and from the hospital, getting his medication, assisting him in his affairs. Gary, the abiding cynic, who offered his heart, friendship, time and humour. And there were others of whom I do not know. Like the redwoods, they circled around and supported and, like the redwoods, there is an emptiness at the center that reminds us of time passing and those who stood before.

It is an irony that the inheritors of that great gay family that offered such promise, that of the Jesus, have become agents of our genocide. I believe that queer families are stronger and better than the christian model of heterosexual union. That model lies in hypocritical ruins in every divorce court in the land. We queers have endured a long time, longer than the religions that now call for our extermination and we are faced with a gathering of the strongest enemies we have encountered: the United States empire, the christian, muslim and jewish religions, and - always - the longing of men who want to love men but are afraid to do so. This genocide is occurring and our future is in doubt but I want to celebrate the living gay families. They are fluid and may change and reform, their support may be waylaid by a night too long at the bar, they may lose members, but, at least for now, they are here for us.