Who Killed Tyler Clementi?

By Javier Robles

America is becoming the country we use to point fingers at, a place were intolerance of others is commonplace. Where we do not think twice about using someone’s sexuality or sexual preference for our own comic relief. We put people like Rush Limbaugh on a pedestal and go out of our way to make a point of showing what we don’t like about other people. As the polarization of these “United States” continues so will tragedies like the suicide of Tyler Clementi a freshman at Rutgers University. Tyler was outed as being gay after his roommate Dharan Ravi, and Ravis friend Molly Wei, taped him and another man engaging in sexual acts. Rhavi and Wei face invasion of privacy charges, and may also be charged with bias intimidation. Tyler, however, will never see justice served as his body was found floating on the Hudson, September 29th, according to the Wall Street Journal. The 18 year old’s last message to the world posted September 22nd, on Facebook, read, that he was going to jump off the George Washington Bridge.

This young man saw no other way out but one, suicide, why? Because many times we learn from our parents, clergy, media, family and “Friends” that being gay is bad. It is not “normal” and in the religious case, “it is a sin against God”. We as a society tolerate intolerance. We sit back in the house of the lord while a person of this Earth riles on about the sin of being homosexual. We tolerate the imposition of laws and lawmakers who believe they can legislate sexuality, morality and personal choice. In fact, we leave the television and radio on while the likes of Rush Limbaugh and Pat Buchanan educate our toddlers about hate and fear mongering. These same people also lambaste certain television shows as too violent, sexual or “non-American”. There is an indifference towards those not in the mainstream, the gays, disabled, immigrants, and poor. Yet, we tolerate!

It is this tolerance for ignorance and intolerance for people different from us that should have the spotlight shined on it. Do not get me wrong, the two perpetrators in this incident Ravi and Wei, deserve what ever is coming to them. However, we deserve a collective blame. Parents, who allow their child to believe it is all right to dislike others, simply because “they are not like us”. Pastors, who preach love in one, breathe only to stigmatize and hate in the other one. Politicians, so afraid of their base or blinded by their “family values”, that they cannot open their mouth against legislation or laws that continue to oppress our men and women in uniform. Media, that promotes hate like a sporting event, that actually pay commentators to profess their dislike of (according to them) those so morally corrupt that they cannot possibly be “Real Americans”.

It is our tolerance of anti gay, racist, anti disabled and lack of empathy for the poor in this country; that make, a bright young man like Tyler, think the only solution to his sexuality is death. That is a low-point in our Countries history. Just like the murders of Mathew Sheppard in Texas, Frank Rodde’s in Chicago, and Jorge Steve Lopez Mercado in Puerto Rico; were all committed by others, we just supplied the ammunition.

For more information on organizations and websites providing services and positive messages on gay issues visit:

The National Gay and Lesbian Task Force
http://www.thetaskforce.org/

Gay Men’s Health Crisis
http://www.gmhc.org/

GLBT National Help Center
http://www.glnh.org/

To Talk to a Live Person

GLBT National Hotline
1-888-843-4564

GLBT Youth National Hotline
1-800-246-7743

When Disabilities Meet Codfish

by Javier Robles

Columbus and his mangy crew may have brought bacalao (salted codfish) to the New World but Carmen Robles perfected it in her bacalao y berenjena (codfish & eggplant) dish. This dish does not take long to prepare and is delicious. Give it a try!

Berenjena y Bacalao

Ingredients
2 pounds dried salted codfish (bacalao)
2 medium berenjena (eggplants)
3 large cloves of garlic or one tablespoon pure garlic powder
Manteca de achiote or 1½ packs of Sazon con achiote
Half can tomato sauce
One medium onion
Dash of pepper

One baking dish
One heavy duty large pan

Cut eggplant lengthwise and bake face down with a small bit of water at 350 degrees for about half hour or until tender. Peel eggplant and remove as many seeds as possible then cut into bite size pieces. Place to side.

Boil codfish 2 times to get rid of most of the salt. The first time, drop in codfish after water boils for 10 minutes. Then boil it again with fresh water for 20-25 minutes. This should remove most of the salt.

Break up codfish into small bite-size pieces and place in bowl with eggplant.

In hot pan place 2 tablespoons of manteca de achiote or, if this is not available, coat bottom of pan with olive oil and add a pack and a half Sazon Goya with achiote. Then add crushed garlic and chopped onion; cook until onion is translucent. Stir in eggplant and codfish and tomato sauce; mix well. Cook for about 10-15 minutes and serve with white rice.

In Latino cultures especially Puerto Rican we sometimes talk about being enbacalao. We are having a bad day or bad luck. Things just aren’t smelling right. That’s what I am blogging about this time; a bad mojo between people with disabilities and those who temporarily don’t have a disability. Let’s break down another barrier in hopes of creating a better world to live in.

You ever get the feeling that people are uncomfortable around you? That what you do and say makes them feel uneasy and sometimes embarrassed? We have all been there at one time or another — whether crossing that racial divide or meeting someone new. So how do you feel if you think you’re making people uncomfortable a great deal of the time?

I know I make my mother Carmen uncomfortable when I drive and she is my passenger. Here is a little glimpse into my drive with Carmen.

I wheel into my lift and push the buttons on it “up and in.” Once in the van I roll my wheelchair right in front of the steering wheel. My chair auto locks to the floor and I work the digital control pad to start and shift.

No sooner do I start my car than I hear Carmen, “Padre nuestro que estas en los cielos …” This praying goes on for a good 10 minutes at which point I begin to think: She does not seem too comfortable. She never gets very comfortable.

During Turnpike drives she likes to gently tap me. Why? “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t sleeping.” Holy crap! Why the heck would I be sleeping and driving?

If I listen to NPR she says, “Que es esa porqueria? Don’t you have Spanish stations?”

Honestly, no matter what you hear my driving is not that bad.

I know I make some people uncomfortable. More importantly I have come to believe that a little discomfort by someone else does not bother me a bit. In fact, it can be used as a “learning tool” for the “socially challenged.”

Why do I think I make people uncomfortable? you ask.

For readers of this blog who don’t know me, my presence can be a bit daunting at first. I am a hefty Puerto Rican in a motorized wheelchair and most of the time I travel with my service dog, Janus (to learn more about service dogs go to www.cci.org).

Needless to say many people who see me for the first time think one of a few things such as:

God this guy is so courageous.
Mira Juan, this guy in a wheelchair has a full-time job and you can’t even get a bagging job at Twin City.
Believe and you will walk again!
Holy crap shouldn’t this guy be home in a hospital bed?

People with disabilities are either heroes, non-believers, or sickly. It is our job to make categories and neat boxes we can fit groups of people into. In some cases these categories are developed by long-standing cultural beliefs and traditions, many which are alive and well in many of our countries.

I am here to crush your neat boxes and to kick your misconceptions right were it hurts. I want to rip traditions which claim that it is better to pity the cripple than empower the citizen with a disability. Traditions which thrive on a caste system of social inequality so damaging to the psyche, that many cannot bear the burden they have become. I am not only talking of Latinos but also of the “mainstream,” which profess ideological superiority on issues of equality, but fall short in practice.

Are you thinking Javier is being a little harsh? What’s he complaining about? He has handicapped parking.

I supposed it is a frustration that develops from the day one acquires a disability. It slowly builds and builds and builds then one day you either scream out the window or write this blog. There is a serious need to reevaluate the significance and value of people with disabilities. Not how they make us feel when they miraculously walk out of their wheelchair but how they make us feel when we know they will always be in a wheelchair. I am not discouraging hope, prayer or a belief in a higher power. What I am saying is that the first steps to improving our relationship with people with disabilities are acceptance and power sharing.

Acceptance of the person’s disability seems simple but it carries implications that challenge our traditional misconceptions. The ones no one knows about. The fear to approach someone with a disability, to talk with them and to offer friendship. Worse still, the fact that I am one car accident away from having a disability. Acceptance comes only when one forgets everything you never knew you learned.

So what about power-sharing? My hermanos y hermanas, we in the Latino/a community are only beginning to understand the importance of having a stake in this country’s future. Across the board it is our responsibility to offer every member of the community a portion of our progress. In reality, for people with disabilities it starts with access and ends with jobs. There is too little of either to go around. Moreover, when people such as myself do have access and jobs, we must contend with discrimination from all sectors top to bottom. Do not be fooled — success still has a price. While women have managed to some extent to break through the “glass ceiling,” people with disabilities who are working are buried under a “concrete ramp” pointed straight down. Insuring that Latinos with disabilities are part of our economic and political fabric strengthens us. It allows for growth and power-sharing.

Many of us understand what it’s like to feel like outsiders right within our own communities. That’s what it’s like every day for people with disabilities in this country. To be overlooked and undervalued causes a strong feeling of worthlessness. I — like many other people with disabilities — refuse to be put in a box and labeled for the convenience of others. Family members and friends of people with disabilities are the first line of education about the abilities and contributions that people with disabilities have and will continue to make.

In order to be inclusive we must re-examine ourselves and organizations as they relate to disability inclusion. Many of our leaders feel that it’s okay not to have a ramp, accessible bathrooms, or an inclusive attitude. However, empowerment and power-sharing begin at the basest level and sometimes that means getting people with disabilities into your front door. People with disabilities should not just be viewed as consumers or clients; they should be on their boards and making decisions.

No one wants to be enbacalao. Therefore, treat everyone as you would want to be treated

Love You. Love Me!

By Odeon Black

Sexuality abounds in the media, from scantily clad Calvin Klein models who seemed malnourish, to hundreds of bikini wearing women running towards a man spraying cologne on himself.   They are all beautiful, sexual, and sexy, they ooze pheromones and more to the point they sell products.  These ads are made so that you don’t want to look away, made to keep you enticed until your sold.  But what are you buying? A product or an image of what is perfect?  The truth is many times we don’t know what we are being sold.  But often it makes us feel like we bought the underline message, they are pretty and we are not.

We look in the mirror and see deficiencies, which are compounded by everyday negative comments and messages we receive from those around us.  Bombarded by stares of public and private disapproval we forget the day we stopped feeling beautiful.  The day a simple dress made her feel like a princess, or when a pair of shoes put him “on top of the world”.  To many of us with disabilities those memories are a distant fog.  It is sexuality, denied! It is beauty unreachable! Most of all, it is self-inflicted.  Like cutting into your skin every time you get depressed, until you no longer feel the knife, but the scars are clearly visible.

I have met them.  I hear their self-disgust and see every cut in their eyes.  Society, What has thou done?   They talk to me of feeling un-loved, hating their bodies, their looks and the hand they were dealt.  The screams of pain have been real and imagined, but the suffering is constant.  The new dress has lost it’s magic, and those shoes no longer shine.

Why?  Because we grew-up, watched too much television, and actually became the person most displeased by our looks.  We devalued our contributions and our sexuality and forgot what made us beautiful.   Someone told us that our dress was not pretty and our shoes were outdated.  They crammed their negative views into our special pleasures, and we let them.  To this day we cry because we miss them, because we let them.

My theme of sexuality and disability is usually spicy and upbeat and so we will end on an upbeat note.  First, it is time to take back what is yours, your beauty, sexiness, positivity and your ability to look in the mirror.  Time to love the imperfections, which have, become knives to your soul. It is truly time to tell the negative influences, including, media, mind and “friends”, to keep their comments to themselves.  So, make a date with yourself.  Do your favorite things, and fall in love all over again with the little girl who lit up a room with her smile.  Reach deep into the well of darkness and pullout your favorite shoes and wear them.  If by chance you run into someone who tells you how ugly your shoes or dress may be, tell him or her, Fuck You!

Sex Travels By Odeon Black

This blog is not about going to Indonesia, Thailand or some other exotic land to get your “rocks off”.  It is about getting them off where ever you are!  It is about the ease of “mental masturbation” like you want it.  No holds bar. So take a trip with me.  Clothing optional.

Sometimes when I close my eyes I can picture the perfect sex.  The kind that makes you want to “stay in the moment” and never leave.  Sometimes it involves the ultimate surrender, one that only a quadriplegic can provide, where my vulnerability is part of the sexual game she and I play.  She knows I cannot move, but ties my hands anyway.  She knows I will be where she left me, but commands me not to move.  She believes that I will follow her every command and understands the sexuality of my stillness.  She feels the sexual energy where she makes it, where she allows it to be – like the monks of a thousand years, her understanding is enlightened by the fact that she believes.     It is what it is, for it can be nothing else unless we make it so.  I could be a prisoner of her lust because she treats me like her other lovers.  She does not lessen my ability to be bound.

In another instance, I close my eyes and see myself in the middle of a crowded bus towards Frisco Bay, my wheelchair pressing into the folded-up seat and the heat just rises.  It is an unusually hot day for the Bay and even hotter for me, as I pretend not to notice her.  She stands so close.    Human bodies pushing upon each other in their summer wear, pressing in a careless manner and acting like they don’t realize it.  She realizes it!  Her bohemian blue and green skirt tightens as other passengers push her towards the side of my wheelchair.   I pretend not to notice, but can feel myself getting a mental hard-on to challenge the Washington Monument.  There are small beads of sweat on her neckline and they run down to meet her white tee.  Her hard nipples reveal no bra and she catches me peering at her.  She stares back, and with her fingers, brings back her dark straight hair.  I do not look away.  Then, as if we rode the bus together, she leans over and starts whispering in my ear.  Her voice is soft and her breath is warm like Redwoods in July.   She smells like incense and sex.  Her words are deliberate and meant to evoke the animal instinct in men and women.  They pour into my ear down to the tip of my dick and they dare me not to cum.

I understand how good sex is in the flesh.  However, I am captivated by the places I can go by just closing my eyes.  The scents and the taste I can have without ever leaving my space.  I fall in love and make love with people I will never meet.  I am the thought that flowed into a river of passion because I wanted it.  Where do you go when your eyes are closed?