CARDINAL SIN

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We’ve been keeping a fairly tight lip on the Cardinal O’Brien situation of late, partly because of the confusing mix of schadenfreude and pity that we’ve been feeling, but mainly because at the heart of matter, there are several innocent parties that have been subjected to his heinous behavior.

However, it is a global issue and deserves to be addressed.  We can’t think of a better way than by sharing this blog from honey-in-residence Josef Church-Woods.

CARDINAL SIN

On Sunday last week,Cardinal Keith O’Brien, the former head of the Catholic Church in Scotland, admitted to inappropriate “sexual conduct” in relation to recent accusations made by several priests, and one former priest.

According to the men in question, O’Brien abused his position of power on many occasions over the last 20 years, orchestrating situations where his unwanted sexual advances were deemed impossible for them to refuse. O’Brien’s statement on Sunday, though somewhat vague, would appear to validate the allegations and speaks volumes about his character and integrity.

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Why We Should Thank Our Lucky Stars For Madonna

“Why is it that these women have forgotten how great it was to have a role model that not only stuck it to the man, but then stuck it to herself, in herself and tasted it as if to say how dare you moderate my sexuality?”

Barry Church-Woods


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I’m a Madonna fan.

For a lot of people of my generation it came with being gay. Like the pop culture equivalent of the gentleman’s lavender handkerchief or Truman Capote’s dickie bow, loving a certain someone from Rochester, Michigan whilst owning a penis has for a long time insinuated that you would like to get into the groove in a way that doesn’t just involve dancing.

Being a Madonna fan replaced the word bachelor for a while.

My grandmother used to introduce me to her friends as a ‘Madonna fan’. When I showed up at parties dressed in a conical bra with a fake head-mic on, it was because I was a ‘Madonna fan’. When I nearly set fire to the back garden, burning crucifixes and dancing in front of them, it was because I was a ‘Madonna fan’.

It seems that lately, Madonna had become a dirty word and the press are ready to crucify her at every step.

She’s recently been in the media for her shocking antics in Malawi.  The terrible thing she did last year?  She built 10 extensions to existing schools creating education opportunities for 500 children and young people.  She should have built 10 schools apparently, but lets be honest, progress is progress no matter how long it takes to get there.

She also got her boob out on tour, came on stage two hours late most nights and called famous nazi Marine Le Penne out for being a…wait for it…a nazi.

Oh, and we mustn’t forget this one.  She adopted two children from a third world country where they were sure to suffer disease and malnutrition from severe poverty, and she…she fed them.  And clothed them.  And gave them a nice home with a nanny.  The cheeky cow.  How dare she?

Around the time of the release of her film W.E., Madonna mentioned in an interview with Harper’s Bazaar that nowadays when anyone writes anything about her, her age is right after her name as if to limit her achievements or remind her that society would like her to stop soon.

A quick online search finds this to be true. It also finds that most of the negativity thrown at her in the past 10 years has been from women. Women that grew up singing along to True Blue in the mirror with a hairbrush, bleaching their hair in the 80s, and wearing lace gloves to weddings when they were kids. Women who it seems would now prefer her to crawl under a rock and stop doing what the world fell in love with her for in the first place.

Why is it that these women have forgotten how great it was to have a role model that not only stuck it to the man, but then stuck it to herself, in herself and tasted it as if to say how dare you moderate my sexuality?

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What has made them forget the sheer joy or behaving in complete contradiction to how society would expect them to? The role model that once told them that she wanted to conquer the world seems to have done just that and yes, dreams really do come true.

For some.

Sadly, it seems that many of those little girls being told there was a new tomorrow where anything was possible have now grown into the jaded bitchy fat girls in the corner, unhappy with their 9-5 existence in their cul-de-sac in Bury St. Edmunds (or equivalent), jealous of the continued success of the woman that defined a generation.

Madonna’s latest album MDNA seems to have been a commercial flop. While much of the media read it for what it is, a fun up-tempo record with some great production, the same women I’ve been writing about complained that it didn’t have the depth befitting of a 53 year old woman. That someone with children should be singing about heartbreak and pain. That Kate Bush just did an album about fucking a snowman that was brilliant and Madonna should do something similar or give up.

The fact that Madonna’s film W.E. depicts a very real time in history, where a man gave up his throne the be with the woman he loved is not without irony set against the backdrop of calls for a reigning Queen to abdicate her throne to a more suitable suitor. Someone more bendy, more youthful perhaps? Someone that doesn’t wear leotards? Someone that acts her age?

But really, deep down, we know what these critics want.

They want her to fuck off and stop reminding them of all of their failures and broken dreams.

But she can’t.  And shouldn’t.  And mustn’t. And here’s why we need her here to stay in the public eye.  At least another few years.

Growing up in the 80s, girls wanted to be her, boys wanted to fuck her and boyz wanted to fuck like her.  She was an instant role model.

She was the first voice I ever heard saying that homosexuality was an acceptable way of life.

Until then, the only other person I’d heard talk about homosexuality was Jerry Falwell. In 1968 he said that preachers are not called to be politicians, but soul winners, and sixteen years later, his hypocrisy shone through as he led a movement that helped put Ronald Reagan in the White House, conservatives on the Supreme Court, and turned the Democratic South solidly Republican.

Bad.  Yes.

But then he did this.

He funded an international campaign to recognize AIDS as “God’s punishment for being a faggot”.  Not just that.  It was also God’s punishment to the world, for allowing faggots to exist.

Imagine all that power; having a voice like that?  A voice that was heard all over the world.  A voice that was heard by this 13 year old “faggot” in a council estate in West Lothian, Scotland.

Now I was always taught not to speak ill of the dead.  But it is hard when the dead person was a hateful cunt of a man.

His harmful opinions were set against a backdrop of political inefficiency and lack of education about HIV and AIDS that allowed the disease to progress at a rate unheard of before for something that wasn’t airborne.

But then came Like a Prayer.

Amongst all of the controversy of the brilliant video and the scandal of a $5million Pepsi deal gone wrong, Madonna did something wonderful.  Something very simple and under the radar.  Something missed by most parents and God fearing Christians. In the album sleeve-notes, she inserted some writing about the dangers of HIV and AIDS.  And a safe sex message.  In one simple move, she’d countered the hatred and broken the firewall to information…for her fans at least.  Did I mention a lot of them were gay?

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From that point on, Madonna started to raise her game.  Acting out in public to get her message across.  Bending the ear of her loyal army of fans and helping the message infiltrate society.

It’s OK to be gay. 

She pushed buttons, she changed fashion, she changed buttons, she pushed fashion.  Her impact was so endless for this 36 year old homo that it actually took me until I was 17 to realise that the Madonna/Whore complex wasn’t a statement about how my sister dressed and was actually rooted in a time before Madame Ciccone.

And to this day, she continues to support the LGBT community across the globe by using her position and status to keep hitting home with the same message:

“You cannot use religion to treat other people badly, you cannot use God’s name to treat other people badly, we all deserve love,”

Change is happening. One day, equality will shine through. But we’re not there yet ,and personally I don’t think it’s time for the LGBT community to lose a voice that defined a generation.

Thank you Madonna.

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The Day Larry Kramer Kissed Me

“After reading the Crucible and realising what a cunt I’d made of myself I desperately needed something to redeem my confidence. I wanted the perfect role. A solid, deep 3 minutes that showcased my range and my cast-ability for the upcoming seasons. An engaging speech that showcased my face, voice and physicality”.

Barry Church-Woods

At 17, my best friend; Gay Craig and I auditioned for drama schools together. I’d already fucked one up massively the year before; determined to get out of school as soon as I could*.

*Apparently, if you don’t read the whole script, it is possible to play a John Proctor monologue from the Crucible in a green pinstripe suit while smoking a cigar. (Add to this the fact that I had a shaved head and a quiff, I’m actually pretty impressed that the audition panel didn’t laugh in the face of the young clueless boy that looked like Ani Defranco playing at being a grown up).

Fortunately, a year makes a massive difference when you’re that young.

With a little more maturity, I was ready to throw myself to the lions again. In the spring of 93, with the hope of being afforded the rare and sought after opportunity of becoming Leroy from Fame, I started to work on my tan. And my monologues.

For those of you that are fortunate enough not to have undergone the humiliating process of auditioning to get work, you should know it’s the equivalent of giving a dog a biscuit for rolling over or giving good paw. But instead of a crunchy treat, your tricks need to be of a standard to convince a director, panel of lecturers and sometimes even your contemporaries that you are worthy of the opportunity you are chasing. Sometimes it’s a day’s work that will pay your bills for a month. At other times, it’s the opportunity to develop professionally and be in with a much better chance of getting work in the future.

We were facing the latter and were about to embark on a series of auditions to get into one of three sought after courses available to aspiring actors in Scotland.

As such, we needed the perfect monologues to convince potential course heads that we were exactly the right people to occupy their hallways, singing arias while stag leaping our way to superstardom.

After reading the Crucible and realising what a cunt I’d made of myself I desperately needed something to redeem my confidence. I wanted the perfect role. A solid, deep 3 minutes that showcased my range and my cast-ability for the upcoming seasons. An engaging speech that showcased my face, voice and physicality.

I searched libraries far and wide for the perfect character. Something about a teenager from a council estate. Someone from West Lothian.

Passing Places. The Life of Stuff. Find Me. Trainspotting. The list of opportunities was endless. I worked on four or five different performances. Night and day. Day and night. Over and over again until they were all instinctive. I was all ready to go when Craig brought me something that he said was perfect for me…

Bruce Niles, a thirty-something ex marine from New York whose boyfriend had just died of AIDS.

Perfect.

Here’s a picture of me at 17.

Regardless of how inappropriate the casting would be in the real world, the writing was so powerful that I elected to create a tailored performance around the piece.

It got me into college.

From that point in, I developed an incredible relationship with the play, it’s themes and it’s author.

In my second year at college I used WH Auden’s poem September 1st 1939 as stimuli for a street performance for World Aids Day. The Normal Heart took its name from the poem. This was the start of a long relationship with World Aids Day.

As a director and producer, my first publicly staged work was a preview of a section of the play and my first successfully written funding application was from the Health Education Board of Scotland for the full show to be produced. Incidentally, this also bred my first BBC radio interview for that production and egotistically my first ever standing-ovation.
The first cast of The Normal Heart

Revisiting the monologue in my graduation showcase at the Pleasance got me cast in my first film and when a few years later, I applied for a grown up job as a Cultural Coordinator for Fife Council, it was apparent that where I was in my life at that particular time all came back to The Normal Heart.

That job opened so many doors for me professionally that by 2007 when I restaged the Normal Heart with Civil Disobedience it was with the full support of Larry Kramer, at the National Museum of Scotland and came with an editorial in the Sunday Herald.

26 years after it was first written, the play is as powerful as ever. It’s recently been revived on Broadway and Ryan Murphy has announced that he had been given the film rights. Personally, I can’t wait to see what the creator of Glee, Nip Tuck and American Horror Story does with it.

As I sit in my beautiful Edinburgh flat contemplating my incredible job, today I’m raising a glass to Larry Kramer and all the boys from Act Up. But most importantly, I’m raising it to big gay Craig and the wonderful moment he created that set me on this track.

UK LGBT History Month has arrived

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It’s LGBT History Month in the UK, and we, along with a shed load of our friends are changing our avatars on Facebook, Twitter,  Myspace (because it’s 2004) and Bebo (cough) to a rainbow flag to mark the occasion.  Why don’t you join us.

Lesbian Gay Bisexual Trans History Month takes place every year in February. It celebrates the lives and achievements of the LGBT community.

Find out more about LGBT History Month.

Margaret Cho is giving it away!

We were lucky enough to catch everyones favourite Drop Dead Diva Margaret Cho in Edinburgh two years ago with her brilliant show Cho Dependent.  The show has been turned into a live album and not surprisingly (to us at least) it’s been nominated for a Grammy.  To celebrate, she’s giving it away as a free download until the Grammys.

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Just go to this link, click download or buy now and enter 0. Isn’t she a doll?

Download Cho Dependent Here

Margaret is currently on tour with her show MOTHER.  Buy tickets here.

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The Same Sky, Different Attitudes: Bullied Singer Horse Heads Back Home To Get Married

“It got so bad that one day I was walking and a police patrol car was sitting across the street. The policeman shouted, ‘There’s that lezzie’. I thought, ‘I’m in trouble now. If something happens, who is going to help me?’ I left the town shortly after that.”

Horse+McDonald

MUSIC star Horse McDonald has married her soulmate in a civil partnership – in the same town she fled because of anti-gay bullies.

Horse — real name Sheena — wed Alanna in Lanark, almost a year to the day after they met.

The singer left the town as a teenager because she was picked on for being gay.

And she says the fact that she felt comfortable coming back to exchange vows proves attitudes have changed.

Horse, 54, said: “I am married and I am thrilled to bits. I have had several long-term partners but I just knew Alanna was the one.

“It seems very natural. It is a special thing.

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Footsteps and Witnesses: Ripples in a Pool of Visibility

“These characters are too ‘tidy’ in other ways… there are no transvestites, paedophiles, bisexuals. It is not surprising that a ‘sense of pride emerges”.

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Me modelling Madonna’s moves and Celine Dion’s teeth

in 1992.

Barry Church-Woods

Early yesterday morning I received an email from an old work-chum.  It announced that Bob Cant, the editor of the book Footsteps and Witnesses would be speaking at the National Library of Scotland at the start of February to mark the 20th anniversary of this trail blazing publication.

The publication in question is a verbatim record of 23 different gay and lesbian people living in Scotland in 1992.  The book was published in 1993.  It got me thinking about what I was doing at the time and that process brought me back to my letter to my 16 year old self (inspired by the Joseph Galliano collection Dear Me).  Here it is.

Dear Barry

I’m writing to you from 20 years in the future, the day after NASA announced the discovery of a new planet that looks likely to be able to sustain some form of life. It’s in the goldilocks galaxy and has a surface temperature of 22C, is twice the size of earth and has a sun about 25% cooler than ours.

As a 16 year old, you are prone to exaggeration and your need for approval will see you concoct some wonderfully naive lies. Fortunately for you, you are telling them to people who will have little impact on your life within the next few months and it’s something you will grow out of very soon.

The weird thing is, the first statement about the new planet is true. And in 2011, we’re using the word amazeballs a lot to refence stuff like this. Start saying it now, you’ll be seen as a trendsetter.

There’s really no point in being able to communicate with your 16 year old self unless you at least attempt a few interventions or words of encouragement, so here they are. Sorry if it sounds preachy.

First off, you are a bummer. I know you are already fairly liberal and carefree about this stuff, but I do also know that at 16 you are pretty terrified of what your future is going to be like. You don’t have to worry too much. Society is about to shift in a few years. It will be gradual and there will always be bigots and homophobes around you. The good news is; you won’t feel the need to invite them to your wedding. To your husband. Who is half Swedish and half Kiwi. Picture that in your head. Now picture the opposite. That’s what he looks like.

It takes a while to get there and I’m not going to lecture you about all the frogs you will need to fuck before you find him, but you should know right now, that what you are doing with that skater is not love. It’s barely even sex. He’s actually just wanking inside you and he will never ever treat you well in public. Ditch him and move on. There are a lot of great people to meet that aren’t ashamed of who they are and they will all contribute to you becoming a fairly well adjusted, compassionate and giving person.

Spend more time with your sisters. They will always love you and make you a better version of yourself.
Enjoy having hair and a flat stomach.
Smoke less grass.

Professionally, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ll study acting and be very good at auditions. You’ll get a lot of work but will rarely be booked again. It’s really not your forte and actually, deep down you already know that you are not cut out for the monotony of doing the same thing day after day. The reality is, you’ll have some wonderful experiences and end up working with people that you currently idolise. You are a much better producer than artist but don’t give up on being creative. Sometimes you’ll surprise yourself.

Try not to get caught up in the glamour of it all. It will make you drop your guard and you’ll end up in some fairly dangerous situations that will haunt you to this day.

Oh, and when you are faced with the choice of doing a play with Richard Demarco or a wee part in a film called Mrs Brown, choose the film.

Now that’s over, I know this is what my 16 year old self really wants to know…

At 53, Madonna is still pretty cool although she did steal some African children and become Jewish for a while. The media persecute her for not being daring enough now or being too old or too female or both. She’s had some work done and sometimes looks like Zelda from the Terrahawkes, though mostly she’s still pretty good at what she does.

And finally, and most importantly of all. You are loved for who you are and YOU WILL ESCAPE LIVINGSTON.

When I first wrote the letter last year I remember being full of hope and optimism.  I’m married to the love of my life, have a great job, home and social circle.  I remember sitting back and thinking “Was it really so bad?” I’m sure I had a tough time, but didn’t everyone?  Wasn’t that just part of being a teenager?  Maybe I was overreacting and the times I grew up in were a lot more liberal and understanding.  Maybe the real problem was me and paranoia about being different.  Maybe those Jim Davidson jokes were funny.

Then I started researching the book.  And found a review by David Evans in Scottish Affairs.  It stated:

“These characters are too ‘tidy’ in other ways… there are no transvestites, paedophiles, bisexuals. It is not surprising that a ‘sense of pride emerges”.

Yes. In 1993, it was still ok for some academics to compare homosexuality to paedophilia and not be called out on it. It was a flippant phrase in a somewhat poorly structured review, but it was there.  Right in front of me in black and white.  Could this really be acceptable at any time?

It got me thinking just how far we’ve come in the past 20 years.  The 16 year old me would never have dreamed of being able to walk down the street holding hands with my husband, kissing him goodbye as he goes to work.  On a daily basis, the 16 year old me was still spat at and called a faggot or bender whenever I went to the shops.  The 16 year old me still had to deal with a wanker of a PE teacher that thought it was acceptable to use ‘mincing fairy’ as a motivational phrase.  I’m not saying that the majority of people thought like this, but noone can deny that these attitudes were prevalent in 1993 Scots society.

So this book.  A collection of stories told by real people.  Real people who allowed the editor to use their real names and hometowns.  Real people who spoke about things that we consider fairly mainstream today, was a great little piece of history for the Scottish gay community.  The bravery of the subjects will never be compared to that of Rosa Parks or Emmeline Pankhurst,  it doesn’t even dent the surface of the progress made by Harvey Milk or the Stonewall Riots, but this was Scotland, and about as far removed from San Francisco and New York as the moon and here it definitely formed some of the first ripples in a pool of visibility that allowed people to come out.  To live their lives the way they wanted.  And for that, I am extremely grateful.  Grateful for the progress we’ve made over the past 20 years.  And grateful for all the sex I got to have with FULLY GROWN MEN because of it.

Bob Cant will talk about Footsteps and witnesses at the National Library of Scotland on George IV Bridge, Edinburgh on 4 February at 6pm.  Tickets are free. Book online or phone 0131 623 3734.