Marriage Equality in California

You guys, gay marriage is legal here in California! While this is a youth-focused blog, and you're probably pretty young get married, it's not a terrible thought for the future.

BUT, it can't stop here. With California and Massachusetts, there are still 48 other states that don't allow the same protections and responsibilities for everyone.... soooooo, it's time to get out there and keep the love spreading.

Letters to Louis: The Trouble With Hairy

"Call before you come, I need to shave my cho-cha." Yes, shimmery sweatsuit Missy... but how?

My omniscient Louis,

As I grow exponentially in age, new concerns and problems steadily arise. After many consultations with close friends and Kate Spade’s Manners, one conundrum fails to be solved; vagina etiquette. How does a classy, twenty-something groom without sending the wrong message? I’ve been steered toward the bald, 6-year-old garb, the landing strip (which in reality, only a mosquito plane could land on), the tribal fully grown, and the scratchy, yet trimmed mug. In your opinion, what is the most appropriate?

Sincerely,

Indecisive in Iowa City

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Dear Indy, 

Wow. And wow again. Sometimes I try to gauge the trust that readers have in my advice—generally I figure the column ranks somewhere between “close childhood friend” and… the “Tyra” show. You know, dependable and titillating, but actual educational benefit is sort of an afterthought. Maybe on a good day I’m a makeover episode, you know what I mean? Anyway, Indy, thanks to your question, “Letters to Louis” now falls between the gynecologist and the divine. So what does that make me? Sue Johannsen? Oprah? Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret?. Anyway, I’m tickled, prickly and ready for action. Not to mention ready for more excellent vagina innuendos, like that one. 

Let’s establish a boundary first: If you’re dating someone who is insistent and overbearing about the preciseness with which you clip your hedge – well, to quote the more skeptical girlfriends of Vanessa Hudgens: “Your man is gay.” Or, it’s possible he’s just a total douchebag. Or both, in the most unfortunate scenarios. Work at a J. Crew awhile, you’ll see. 

Now, ladies, here comes the entry’s first Louis confessional: I don’t mingle much with vaginas. Apologies to the broken-hearted. Vaginas are like Indiana to me – I just don’t go there. So let me assure you that the following advice is candy-coated with approval from my dear friend and enabler Jessica. With that, let’s grab hold of our mysterious vaginas and dive in.
 

The Smooth Ride to Brazil:  Indy we have arrived – in Sao Paulo. I hope you like the shiny vistas and winking pool boys, because you’re staying here awhile. I wouldn’t recommend the full wax to just every fierce femme, but to you, Indy, it’s guaranteed to make you feel the least self-conscious. Of course, going Brazilian is about as lax a commitment as, say, Ulysses, but everyone wins here. You feel cleaner, lighter, and effervesced. You and your man both eschew rug-burn. Sh-boom, sh-boom, life is but a dream, sweetheart. That is, if you wax. Don’t you dare try and shave yourself bald with a razor unless you’re some mod version of a sadomasochist who thrives on rashes and redness. Waxing requires some steady upkeep, but, let’s face it, so goes anything vagina-related. I really don’t envy you ladies. That’s the big difference between men and women; at any moment, the vadge could need any of a dozen things (let alone sex). See, when my genitalia needs attention (*only* for sex), I can tell because it has the decency to look up at me.

Landing Strip: I don’t dislike it. A smallish triangle never hurt anyone, minus that gay Teletubby. The argument for the landing strip heralds its close relation to the Brazilian without that Barbie baldness. Yeah, fine, but what’s wrong with smoothness again? Don’t you shave your armpits? I just think maintaining a thatch of trim hair for the sake of aesthetics isn’t worth it. Come on – the landing strip’s only the beginning of the vacation. Brazil’s an actual location. With Mardi Gras. I rest my extremely well-argued case.

Tribal Tumbleweed: Just no. Truly, when unbridled, a girls’ down-there becomes its own organism. It pulls in objects. It snatches up friends. It owns a cell phone. Let’s think for a moment about those wayward hairs that pop up on the wrong side of the panty line too. Too much going on – and not in an intriguing “Lost” way.
 

Edward Scissor-handy: So you’ve hacked at it some, but it’s clearly still a bush. I don’t want to dissuade anyone from a life in the topiary business, but this method still leads to rashes. Also, trimming is so useless – it’s all back in nanoseconds. Choose this path and you will forever feel mocked by the Chia company.
 

The “Chaplin” Moustache: OK, I actually just found this on Wikipedia. Normally I don’t encourage anyone to snip out a likeness of anyone’s facial hair (let alone a screen legend nicknamed “Tramp”) on their groin, but you know… if you just own the look, and maybe draw Chaplin’s face around it… with a little bowler hat… I wouldn’t not love it. Just saying.
 

Jeez, even I’m fanning myself. Keep up the momentum; send me the outrageousness. Let’s get real about really bizarre things before our own personal Mardi Gras is over. And by that I mean my publisher actually starts reading this column. Lambs, hide your streamers.

(Image: Getty)

Is your principal a princi-PAL?

In a recently revealed GLSEN study, it was found that half of principals view bullying as a serious problem at their schools, yet they appear to underestimate the extent of harassment that LGBTQ kids actually face. It seems that principals know anti-queer bullying is going on, but not the frequency of it, which by most accounts is often. GLSEN's From Teasing to Torment: School Climate in America reports that 90% of queer teens have been harassed or assaulted in the past year vs. just 62% of hetero teens. LGBTQ kids need strong teachers and principals on their side.
How's your principal? Is he/she a friend or foe to queer students?

Eat a crabcake: Maryland enacts anti-bullying law

The Old Line State has become the 7th state to enact an anti-bullying law that protects all students, including LGBTQ kids. On Tuesday, Gov. Martin O'Malley signed into law a comprehensive bill that also requires schools to report bullying incidents and develop bullying prevention programs for students, staff, volunteers, and parents. And Maryland's only the 11th state in the union that even protects LGB kids. Let's change that, right? To find out how, visit GLSEN.

(Pictured: Baltimore)

Photos.com

Letters to Louis: Doo Wop (That Crazy)

Still waiting for that sophomore Lauryn Hill album like the rest of us? Guess what! It's going to be released! On Neptune.

Dear Louis,

What ever happened to the Crazy? Britney's doing better; so is Lindsay - who's even left anymore? Winehouse? Yuck. You miss the Crazy as much as I do?

YOURS! - Nat

Dear NAT!

You know, Nat, I can't really miss the Crazy if I'm surrounded by it every second of the day. Which I am. The Crazy's not something we just scan in gossip blogs - it's in our lives, all around us, bombarding us, like oxygen or Scarface posters. Also doesn't help if we generate the Crazy ourselves, constantly - which I certainly do. It's my way of recycling. I'm talking about that internal, maniacally scheming, Fatal Attraction-style obsessive streak, which came into vogue in the early '90s, when actress Sean Young dressed up as Catwoman and stormed a movie set to persuade Tim Burton to cast her. Even Sinéad O'Connor was like, "She needs help."

The Crazy on a micro level is just as frightening. Take, for instance, my divine ability to think and rethink about degrading comments my gymnastics coach hurled at me when I was 8 (domineering Lithuanian men still make pee a little) or how hot I'd look if only I removed half of these pesky ribs. See? Scary. Let's figure out where the rest of you can find ample dosages of the Crazy, because you apparently can't drag it out of yourselves. P.S. Sanity is for pussies; you all make me sick.

Rapping females: The barometer of Crazy shoots up like a sunflower-steroid hybrid whenever a rapping lady enters the room. You might remember when Lauryn Hill sang about the "Ex-Factor" or how "Everything is Everything." Since that time, Hill has advanced on her storied "Miseducation." And by that I mean she's currently studying abroad on what must be a spaceship. Little over a year ago, Hill unveiled a new "look," featuring what sure seemed like silver eye makeup (puffy paint?), an Afro, and a tin-foil alien bodysuit - killing us softly with her ray-gun, if you will. With all the Reynolds-wrap and Martian imagery going on here, I sense a remake video of "We Built This City" on the horizon, so look forward to that. Lauryn's main combatant in Crazy is, obviously, the lovely Ms. Lil Kim, who likes to spend her un-incarcerated time collecting plastic surgeries like so many Pokémon cards. I could revel in this Crazy all day, except these ladies carry weapons, so let's book it.

Residence Life: Not positive your university life abounds with enough under-medicated spontaneity? Looks like your time has arrived to become an RA. Check it: I'm an RA, and guess how I feel? Fluent in Crazy. I'm speaking it to exchange students by now. The day-to-day beat of a resident assistant involves only the finest of life's challenges, like stopping that thousand-pound freshman from punching pedestrians or getting called at 4 a.m. to help clean Tina's puke off her roommate's thong in the hall. If you ever wanted to take part in the show "Cops" without committing to all of that … Kentucky, become an RA. You're on staff with superschweet, sensible people, and you'll need them when a wobbling, crying 18-year-old pulls the fire alarm because she got scared when Tina started puking on everyone's thongs.

Exes: Part of enjoying the Crazy means construing others as crazier than us. It's validating. Talk about "Ex-Factor," the exercise re-evaluating our most diagnosable exes gets more fun with each attempt. Truly, I wish I was deranged enough to make up my three personal favorites, because I'd be making James Frey-style bank right now: 1) My high-school beau whose hyper-Catholic father blessed him with holy water every time I came over. For real. Still debating an Opus Dei connection. 2) The batshit-bonkers 25-year-old who claimed I spread rumors that he had AIDS and "wore his bandana all the time because of the AIDS." You know. Bandanas. Those international AIDS emblems. And 3) The affable 21-year-old I met in March who (get this) claimed to have sex dreams where I read "Letters to Louis" to him as we did the nasty. See, this is why we need to legalize gay marriage … so I can arrange for this flattery in all my days.

Facebook: Um, Nat, we haven't yet spoken about our demented mutual friend named Facebook. Crazy basically lives in a high-rise on Facebook, though it owns condos on MySpace and most fan-fiction sites. Just look at these pearls, from the compulsive overachievers who post stilted profile pictures from meet-and-greets with Hillary Rodham Clinton or Mitt Romney to that uncombed recluse English grad student whose only listed interest is either "fire" or "Morrissey." Bless your madness, Mark Zuckerberg.

One last note about the Crazy: I'm set to swivel in it for life since, er, my college education ends next week. Cue the Simon & Garfunkel harmonies, Anne Bancroft legginess, and snorkel adventures at the bottom of the pool. Oh yeah, and cue the excessive tears, my newly aimless life, and comfort-food gorging -- did I mention I was crazy? Keep checking the police blotter for my future ambitions.

(Image: Getty)

Impropper punctuation

A new survey shows that a quarter of students have used emoticons in their school work at some point. Campus Progress reports:

And that’s not the only trait of casual online & text messaging style that’s making the jump to formal writing: “half of the teens surveyed say they sometimes fail to use proper capitalization and punctuation in assignments, while 38 percent have carried over the shortcuts typical in instant messaging or e-mail messages, such as LOL for ‘laughing out loud.’”

Teachers are understandably skeptical, but the folks at Pew say not to worry.

“It’s a teachable moment,” said Amanda Lenhart, senior research specialist at Pew. “If you find that in a child’s or student’s writing, that’s an opportunity to address the differences between formal and informal writing. They learn to make the distinction… just as they learn not to use slang terms in formal writing.”

Had I tried this while I was in high school or -- God forbid -- college, I probably would have been punched in the face by my teacher or professor... and either case is within the past decade.

Students Use Emoticons In Homework And Teachers Are...>:-O {Campus Progress}

Letters to Louis: Home-Turf Street Fight with Diablo Cody

I'll meet you at the back end of the Lemont Park District, Cody.

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Sorry for that week delay on Letters to Louis -- with the Day of Silence last week, I figured, hey, maybe I can shut up for eleven minutes too. Mission accomplished. Hope the day was great for you all as well. Now, back to the wisdom:

Dear Louis,

I hate paparazzi. I think they can take a seemingly innocuous event like a scuffle outside a club, dressing in sweats, gaining five pounds, and simply looking drunk (after drinking) and turn it into cause for rehab. When you are lying in the street with your high-powered lens waiting to snag a crotch shot, you are literally the gutter press. I hate paparazzi. That's not a question, but you can make it one if you'd like.

Signed, JUST LEAVE BRITNEY ALONE!


Dear JLBA,

All valid points, and I appreciate the Chris Crocker reference. Did you know I interviewed him? For real, I did. He slyly asked me what my "sign" was too. You know what I did? I threw my drink at him and said, "YIELD, bitch." *

Now, onto that question you said I could invent. I hope you don't mind if it has nothing to do with what you wrote.

"Dear Louis: Sigh, you're graduating. Does that mean you're leaving?? I will certainly poison myself!! I already miss you!!! Touch meeee. Breathe meeee. Recreate me in your imaaaageeee. My question is, who's more ferocious: you or that Diablo Cody, who wrote Juno and went to the University of Iowa (like you). I have no idea what you'll answer!!11! AHHHEHHH! Thanks!! I'm so excited!! I was declared dead for three minutes once!!! Love, Tammy or something."

Fictional Tammy, thank you for your question. I've pondered this for awhile, because I, too, enjoy Diablo Cody, the Oscar-winner who wears animal-print everything and thinks she knows more about early '90s TV than I do. Uh, word: She's also from my home tundra of Lemont, Ill. No guess what Diablo thinks she's doing stealing my entire life-track like an asshole, but whatever, I can be the bigger person. Turns out the best way to answer any of life's questions (including yours, Tam-phetamine) is to come up with a bulleted list. So let's get going with the incredible professionalism you've come to expect from this column.

• From Stripper to Stardom: Diablo Cody wrote a book called Candy Girl about her days as a stripper in Minneapolis. I don't mean to sound elitist (to you morons), but I would never strip for money. Come on, if I'm going to strip, it's going to be for something substantial - like hard drugs or Tim Gunn's 55th birthday. Maybe for charity. Pretty clear the fiercer ho in this hoedown is me, Diablo. Point, Virtel.

• Name Game: Diablo Cody? That ain't her name. I used to scan Diablo's family's groceries as a downtrodden cashier back home. I did it with a mothereffing grin, y'all, AND a side-part. Because of my history with Diablo's mom's meat products, I know damn well our girl's real name is Brook Busey-Hunt. See, I would never deceive my fans with a stage name. Unless it was a sweet one … such as Viper von Vogue. Hell, yeah. A combo of venomous fangs, German scariness, and a Madonna reference. Peeing myself at this ferocitude. Ooh, what about … Jafar von Facemelting? I like! Iago von Decimator? The combination of Disney villains and the effects of napalm seems pretty solid. Hmmm. Anyway, that's another point for me, somehow.

• I'd like to spank the academy: OK, when Harrison Ford announced that Diablo won the Oscar for Juno, I of course flipped my darling shit and started shrieking "Go Hawks" and "She loitered at my Pita Pit" like the rest of you. But then Diablo approached the mike to accept her award, and, ugh, her speech lacked so much. She thanked Ellen Page, Jason Reitman, professional writers, and her family. It bordered on disgusting.

Sorry, Brook, but another fierceness point travels over to Team Lou-ass because my Oscar speech (for my supporting role as Yvette the busty maid in the 2017 remake of Clue - cast your ballots now) will go like this: "I'd like to first thank myself for running the entire Daily Iowan. It wasn't that hard. Second, I'd like to thank the institution of journalism for allowing itself to be transformed every week by my insight, work ethic, press-on nails, and undiagnosed Tourette's Syndrome. Last, I understand it's awkward to bring up religious beliefs during these things, but I must thank my Most Holy Redeemer … who is in the house tonight. Ladies and gentleman, give it up for the holy hot pants of Advocate maven Miss Anne Stockwell. (Stockwell descends from the ceiling and brings down the Kodak Theatre with an electric version of "Proud Mary.") Thank you, and I'll see you all at Kelis' after-party at the Wendy's in Compton." Three more fierce points for me, and one for you, the reader, for agreeing.

Man, I guess Diablo just doesn't measure up against some people. I hope to never hear disagreement on her part, because I'll inevitably handle her parents' groceries again after I graduate, move back home, and settle in for a slow, 65-year death. Yeah, I haven't applied for many real jobs yet. But I do have one last deadly question for Miss Cody, who only betters me because of her connections, awesome wit, fame, smarts, and ridiculous hair: How shall I bag away your stardom - paper or plastic?


*(Actually, Chris Crocker's totally nice. I Gmail-chatted with him recently. My sign is Leo.)

Image: Getty

Florida passes anti-bullying law!

The Sunshine State has become the 36th state to pass an anti-bullying law. Now LGBTQ students will be protected by Florida law from hateful harassment. The new law was an eight year effort on the part of gay leaders in the state. Now, if only LGBTQ people could adopt children in Florida...

(Photos.com)

No More Making Out in the Hallway

(Photos.com)

A high school principal in Memphis wanted the names of all couples ("hetero and homo," she said) so she could monitor them, Big Brother style. Principal Daphne Beasley basically wanted to stop kids from making out all over the school. So she compiled a list of names and put it on her desk, out in the open for a lot of people to see.

But in doing that, she revealed that two boys, Andrew and Nicholas, who were trying to keep their relationship quiet, were indeed together. Beasley even told them not to be seen together... even studying. Furthermore, she called Nicholas's mom down to the school to let her know her son was in a relationship with another boy (even though they were never "caught" in public making out or anything like that).

Andrew and Nicholas wanted to keep their relationship private.  The ACLU (who is representing the boys) says:

Both students say they've had to deal with verbal harassment from both teachers and students since word got out around the school about their principal's actions. According to Nicholas, he also suffered another consequence of the principal's discrimination. He had submitted extensive paperwork and several recommendations from teachers for a school trip to New Orleans to assist in rebuilding efforts. Having a long history of community service, he was considered a shoo-in to be selected to go before the incident, but then a teacher told Nicholas some faculty were afraid he might "embarrass the school" or engage in "inappropriate behavior." A few days later, another student who hadn't even applied to go on the trip was selected in his place.

"We never bothered anyone or did a single thing at school that broke any of the rules," said Nicholas, a junior and honor student. "Every day I feel like they're still punishing me, and I'm worried that this is going to hurt my chances to get into a good college."

The ACLU wrote a letter to the Memphis School Board today, urging the board to reprimand the principal for her actions.

ACLU Takes on High School Principal for Discriminating Against Gay Couple {ACLU}

Day of Silence: Lawrence King

This week, we're honoring a handful of LGBT-related hate crime victims in light of Friday, the 12th annual National Day of Silence. On that day, students in thousands of schools across the country remain quiet to bring attention to the name-calling, bullying and harassment -- in effect, the silencing -- experienced by LGBT students and their allies.

Even before his life was cut short at the age of 15, Lawrence “Larry” Fobes King was unforgettable. He endeared himself to everyone he met with his humor and honesty, refusing to be anyone other than his own vivacious self.

Larry—born on January 13, 1993; he was a Capricorn—lived the last months of his life at Camarillo, Calif.’s Casa Pacifica home for abused, neglected, and emotionally troubled children. The staff and the other kids there loved him. “King was a bubbling face who made you smile every day,” Casa Pacifica staff member Melissa Flavin told me when I visited the facility to write an Advocate cover story on Larry and his murder.

Larry attended school at E.O. Green Junior High. Everyone knew who he was, and even though some people shunned him because he was openly gay, many people considered him a friend.

Larry loved bugs, chess, and candy. He adored music and had a gorgeous singing voice that he honed at Casa Pacifica. Before he lived in the home, Larry and his adopted mom once crocheted hundreds of scarves for American soldiers in Afghanistan. He was active in the local queer youth group.

As many young LGBTQs know, Larry was gunned down by classmate Brandon McInerney in computer lab at his Oxnard, Calif. junior high on February 12. A few weeks prior, Larry began dressing in heels and jewelry. Many surmise that Larry had a crush on Brandon and either asked the 14-year-old out or gave him a valentine. Brandon’s response was to kill Larry.

Some people don’t understand why LGBTQ people are always fighting and clawing and screaming for equal rights. Even some gay people think we’ve come so far, that the battle for equality is already won. Well, imagine if Larry was simply female. He just would have been a girl with a crush. He’d still be alive.

This year’s Day of Silence is in honor of Larry. Please think of him on Friday—and say a prayer for all the LGBTQ kids trying to survive in America’s schools. —Neal Broverman

"Mixed Messages," The Advocate
Remembering Lawrence, GLSEN