The Vision of the Blind

“Who is your favorite author?”

The first person who comes to mind isn’t my favorite but was the most influential.  I learned a lot from him during undergraduate school.  After college, I had a new favorite author.  He was a great poet who spoke the speak for early Americans.  Finally, I found Toni Morrison.  But, she didn’t write any more about my world than the two hes before her.  And, none of them were out.  (People say the poet was gay, but his writings weren’t, and won’t ever be, sequestered to the “Queer” section of the canon.)  Thinking of these three, I can’t identify a common trait in their style or content that unifies them—except that all three spoke, at some point, to me.

So, who came to mind for you?  Chances are high that both male and female readers thought of a male.  Maybe it’s a guy from antiquity, the Renaissance, or a modern writer whose book just made it onto the shelf known as “keepers.”  Still, despite cultural changes, male authors record our history and create our stories.

The odds are against women authors, but we’re used to that in almost all playing fields.  Guys sometimes dominate industries that should belong to us—like women’s fashion, doctoring female parts, and delivering babies.  We should be the experts. But, I heard my older dentist complain that women are dominating dentistry.  In all honesty, that might be good.  His fingers are clumsy in my mouth.

Some female authors figure out how to tell a uniquely feminine tale or one that is universal to both genders.  “Their stories involve patriarchal males who are toppled by feminine wisdom.  By default they get to involve all readers,” I might say with spite whenever I struggle to develop a male character.  But, I can’t know.  I don’t read enough fiction literature.  Shame on me—the wannabe author.

Let’s agree to disagree that today’s female authors, or actors, or professionals, or etc. have a fairer—a fair enough—shot at manifesting their creative aspirations.  Women aren’t allowed to whine anymore, ever again, unless we bring cheese and a picnic basket.  Forcing the position—that we should be self-reliant—into submission, we can peel the first layer of the onion.

Here, there is a different barrier for lesbians as well as gay, bi, and trans wannabe authors, or actors, or professionals, or etc.  We are sequestered to niches because the way we manifest our common drives is uncommon.  We find means that aren’t a perfect fit, and we don’t have the buying power—which leads to upfront investment—to be competitive.  We settle for less in a world that expects more; therefore, we are appealing to the masses most often as bohemians or eccentric superstars like Andy Warhol and ???.  It's difficult to live in either extreme—even for love.

By having a unique story that happens to be a girl-with-girl story, my bar is higher.  Mediocre mainstream stories have a better chance of making it from the shelf to the cash register than a great lesbian drama.  For this reason—based off of a historical marketing trends—there are fewer stories by gay (not to mention lesbian) dramatists and comedians about gay life styles or comedy.  (Sure, you can say, "What about Will and Grace? What about Magic Moutain...I mean Brokeback?"  But, these tales were directed or acted by straight men.)  There's something about the double-whammy of gay on gay about gay that can't be marketed to the masses.  And, lesbians have fewer examples.

The formula for entering the market is a catch-22. As long as no one is telling the story from our perspective, the majority can’t have a chance to decide whether or not they want to hear a non-formulaic tale.  We remain obscure, unique and oblique.  So—in this lesbian guise—can the conservative heterosexual male identify with my words so much that for a short moment he becomes one with my humanness?  Maybe.  I’ll have to wake up one day and find the muse who can make me a brilliant writer.  This is the coveted magic of all recognized authors.  Still, I'll need a way to tell publishers that my muse is brilliant; therefore, I should be read, appreciated, and published.  That might be more difficult than the writing part, unless my muse knows his muse.

Adding to the odds against lesbian influences in literature, acting, and education, there are fewer (physical) gay bodies. That reality makes things difficult.  Many things happen for people because someone with voting rights recognizes a similar strength or desire.

LGBTs often lose their community.  With it goes much of the personal heritage.  Slowly, community support that is uniquely woven with heterosexual friends, neighbors, clergy, teachers, and family seems foreign to us and we seem foreign to it.  We push our loved ones—protecting them from being uncomfortable with our “choice”—as much as they push from us.  Without the diverse influences of other’s lives as well as support, it’s easy to see why we get lost on our solo-pilot flights into life’s variety of clouds. 

And finally, the LGBT minority splinters further with our innate differences: lesbians are women who seek and live predominantly with women, gays are men, bisexuals live in more than one kind of community, and I only know one transgender.  He moved to Australia to start his new life without her history.  Also, he moved there because Australia is more accepting of our commonalities instead of our differences.

Don’t tune out on what looks like a depressive post.  It’s about to get awe inspiring or more to the point about something better.

I was watching “Jiro Dreams of Sushi.”  It’s a documentary about an 85-year old man who was born outside of Tokyo.  At age 9, he is forced into the world and to care for himself, only knowing that he didn’t want to be a beggar.  So, he goes to work.  He works even when the bosses beat him.  He says, parents tell their children that if it doesn’t work out—come home.  And then, when the child is a failure, they don’t understand why.  Jiro wouldn't have listened to my list of reasons why women, lesbians, gays, bi, and transgenders can't succeed in pursuit of their creative aspirations.  

Jiro dishes out tough love.  Coming from a guy who has less than a dozen stools in his restaurant but won three stars from the Michelin committee, I guess he gets to say, “Suck it up.”  And, it’s clear from the story that his sons have grown to appreciate discipline and minimalism.  Maybe he knows something that I have forgotten.

Near the end of the story, Jiro confesses.  He talks about the people who seek him—a child who was orphaned by his parents.  Now, strangers follow his teachings.  He praises them for their contributions, starting with the kitchen help, including the apprentices, and then thanking his sons for owning, in their own way, his dream.  “By the time the sushi gets into my hands, it’s 95% done.”  He admits.  Jiro benefits from them, and they benefit from his tutelage and undying devotion to this art form.

Jiro was one man, without a community, who built a world-renown team.  He created a reciprocating system that benefits all for different reasons.  It takes a team.  But, there's more to the feat than this simple phrase explains. Mates must share a vision while blind to differences.

So, ponder this today and maybe for a bit later in life, “What person, or collective, will provide the unifying vision that is blind to our differences?"  If you know, share with me, share with us.  Send examples of famous, infamous and never-before-known examples of gays and gay-friendlies who made you go “hmmm.”  The answer to this question is the answer to the other conundrum—LGBT unity.  And, it can be found in Jiro's example who seems to have nothing to do with James, Whitman or Morrison.