Right to Privacy or Right to Juicy Gossip...

I should have been working on homework but instead I found myself glued to the television, watching Amber Frey’s E true Hollywood story. The funny thing is that the celebrity program had relevance to free speech. It was talking about how Frey lost her privacy because of the Scott Peterson case and later someone posted naked pictures of her on the internet. At what point should we draw the line when the media’s right to free speech or our right to hear information infringes on a persons right to live a normal life? We talked about pornography in class and many students believed that women had the right to make pornography. What should be the rights of the person in possesion of the pornography? Recently we have heard many cases where a person creates images they think will remain private, which are stolen and then shared with the public? For example: Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton etc.

A clarification on the last post

I wanted to bring up my essays connection to free speech. Sometimes although we are “guaranteed the right to free speech” something else prevents us from speaking out. I remember how taboo it was to speak about having a gay member in the family during grade school. It was especially hard to say that my uncle had died of AIDS. If schools were to implement programs which taught about tolerance it would become easier to express who we are. Students could find support in those who share similar struggles. I feel that by preventing programs that teach tolerance we are snuffing out student’s freedom of expression. In retrospect, had tolerance programs in school been available I would have had an outlet to express my deep sadness and alienation at having to keep a part of my life secret. There were many consequences including my poor attendance at school, lower grades and spending lunch time alone.

LGBTs are among us....

Here is a post that is very personal to me. I wrote this short story a while back for a creative writing class. Since we were talking about LGBTs today in class I thought I might add my experience growing up.
Robert
My uncle Robert was my moms “little brother” and the man I wanted to be. He was an artist, had lots of friends with strange hairstyles, he smelled good and was always dressed up. I remember during the 1980s how his black sport coats with white shirts were always pressed and his best friend Greg had this really cool leather jacket covered in silver buckles. Together the two friends were always making me laugh with a youthful sense of humor and jokes about everything. There were so many fond memories….
Along time ago I was visiting my aunt in Idaho during my vacation. She had this long skinny house that always had the air-conditioner or heater running. Along with that house came this funny dog named “dice” whose nose twitched and a little brat named Dominique. I remember it was snowing and I was playing outside with my cousin when I decided to tell her an offensive joke that a kid in the school yard told me about “fags”. I learned a lot from spring grove school- from my classmates and my teachers. It was a training ground for snide comments and words that my teachers called me like asinine and motor-mouth. After I told the joke I had expected my cousin to laugh but she didn’t. She was 2 years younger than me but she acted like this old lady so I wasn’t a surprise that she didn’t laugh. I could tell by the look on her little red face and pointy nose that she was about to tell me something her mom had told her about political correctness. She was like a parrot who repeated everything her mother shared with her.
She looked at me sternly and like a teacher to a child said “Uncle Robert is gay.”
“No he’s not! “Came out of my mouth before I understood what she said.
“Yes he is” she said in her whiney little voice. I was starting to get angry.
“You know his friend…?” she said very suspiciously.
“Yeah of course I know Greg” I said cautiously.
“That’s his boyfriend” she whined again. I hated her voice. It reminded me of those know-it-alls in class who always have an answer ready for the teacher. At this point I was fuming. I was so upset that my stomach started to clench. I could feel my face turn red, the blood rushing to my lips as I swallowed what she had just disclosed.
“Shut up!” now I was fuming
“They are lovers…” the word “lovers” was drawn out.
“Shut up” I was seeing red. I wanted to hit her. My uncle couldn’t be gay. That wasn’t possible.
“They kiss” She whispered
I got up off the swing kicked some snow and went inside the house angry as hell that she had suggested that my hero was gay. I didn’t talk much to her for the rest of the week.
On my flight home I thought about what my cousin had said and rejected the notion that my uncle could be gay. He was strong; I had seen him help dig the foundation to my parents’ home. He didn’t walk funny or talk funny or wear a dress. He didn’t fit into the stereotypes that I had been taught by my class mates about “fags”. He wasn’t one of them- he was one of us. What my cousin had said was absurd, asinine! I decided to ask my older sister when I got home to confirm that my cousin had heard wrong.
“Sara,” I approached her room, slowly opening the door, peaking in her room.
“What?” She had finished styling her hair – I could always tell. The room smelled of aqua net hairspray – it was like the morning fog, except hairspray lingered.
“Dominique said something mean about Robert.” I sat on her bed, hoping to hear an alternative story.
“What did that little brat say?” my sister hadn’t liked her since her last visit to my aunts. Dominique was a pest. She always stirred up trouble.
“She said Robert is gay. Stupid little liar.” I huffed, looking at Sara from the corner of my eye.
“Robert is gay” she said. Her hands tightly hugged her hips – in an older sister’s pose.
“What?!”
“Didn’t you know?” she said as she threw her arms in the air.
“No, nobody told me” I was confused – I couldn’t believe what she was saying!
“Probably wasn’t your business” she said.
I sat there stunned. I felt embarrassed. I would like to say that I was good about accepting that my uncle was gay but I wasn’t. I loved him just as much as always but I was embarrassed to tell my friends that I had a gay uncle. I looked up to the man so much that I couldn’t take anyone saying anything bad about him. At least that was how I justified keeping his sexuality secret.
Three years later my uncle became very ill and he came to stay at my parents’ house. I learned that he had contracted AIDS and he was going to be staying with us indefinitely. I was told that his house was too cold in the Santa Cruz Mountains but I later figured out that he wanted to spend his last days with his family.
I had one of my most enjoyable summers that year spending time with him. We planted a garden and I helped him plant this small yellow bush against the front wall of my parents’ house. We went shopping, stayed up late watching movies and had great conversations about school and my future. We even talked about when he was going to get better. Slowly over the summer months he started getting weaker and had trouble leaving the house until finally my mom sent all of my siblings and me to visit my aunt’s house in Idaho again. When we came back my uncle was in the hospital. He never came back home.
I pass the flower bush that we planted every time I visit Hollister. I’m glad that plant is still there because it strengthens my resolve each time I see it to be proud of who my uncle was. There was nothing wrong with him except that he got sick and died. He died young but death happens to anyone no matter who you are. I kept the fact that my homosexual uncle died of AIDS a secret for most of my youth. Now, thanks to my uncle, there is one less homophobe in the world to hate him – me.