Give 'Em Hell

I started this article just as two amazing people helped boost the fundraiser over $5,000. I’ve probably written it about half a dozen times since then. When I realized just how much we had surpassed the initial $3,000 I was hoping to raise, I was stunned. It exceeded my wildest expectations. Everyone who donated or signal boosted brought smiles to my face. And the glorious contributors, who gave us such wide-ranging and diverse articles made my heart soar. 

But, ironically, I personally felt like a failure. An imposter. 

I had a little breakdown Monday; a pity party, I guess you could call it. I absolutely know I’m not alone, but the last two months have been hard on me emotionally. To be quite honest, this year’s Gayly Helpful wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Troy Gardner. He stepped up and helped keep me on track. He kept in touch with the contributors, drafted articles for me to review and edit, gave me a basic schedule to go from and took so much work off my plate. He’s been my rock through this and I’m eternally grateful. 

With everything going on right now, it feels wrong to talk about my problems, but I’ve been feeling off the last few months. There’s been this...churning feeling right underneath the surface that’s really kept me down, even when I’ve tried to be outwardly positive. I know a portion of this is this little demon that sits on my shoulder. I call it that little fucker. The one who tries to compare what I was doing to others so that even as I was continually impressed and moved to tears by the articles going out and the gracious donations coming in, I still felt like I was failing. I don’t even know how to explain it and that uncertainty is probably why I broke down.

Like a lot of you, I struggle with imposter syndrome. I wrote last year about my emotional reaction to Us and how I could see myself in Lupita Nyong’o’s Adelaide. Her journey ties so completely into my past struggles with queerness, but it also feels representative of imposter syndrome, as well. When you’ve grown up trying to fade into the background and the world tells you you’re not worthy of attention or praise, it’s hard to accept any form of positive attention as an adult. I guess I still see myself as that scared little closeted kid, not wanting to rock the boat or show my face. Because what if, when the spotlight is on me, people can see the cracks in my facade? 

What if they can see that I’m just faking it?

What if they already know?

Worse; what if they’re only nice to me because they feel they have to be?

I’m trying to recenter myself. 

Today, I listened to one of my favorite songs called “John, Give ‘Em Hell” by the queer artist Tyler Glenn. You might not know who Tyler Glenn is, but I’m guessing you’ve heard at least one of his songs. Tyler was a member of the Church of Mormon and struggled with his sexual identity while dealing with the oppressively anti-LGBTQ doctrines of the church.  Luckily, there was this outspoken, straight member of the church named John Dehlin. He was pretty influential in the church and hosted Mormon-centric podcasts. And he caught Tyler’s attention.

This man helped Tyler find his queer voice.

“I heard your voice inside my darkness
You gave me something to hold onto
And did you ever stop to notice
All these voices change the world?”

I don’t expect you to know who John Dehlin is. I sure didn’t. I’m not a religious man, let alone someone who’s very familiar with the Church of LDS outside of what I learned from The Book of Mormon. But John was excommunicated from the church for speaking up for his LGBTQ+ brothers and sisters as well as advocating for equality for women. 

I think about this man, whose life was the church. Who decided that his reputation and status in the church was less important than doing what was right by speaking out for a community of people he didn’t belong to.

He was an ally.

“And John, they got you all wrong
So I wrote you this song”

When Tyler was struggling with his sexuality and what it meant to be a closeted gay man in a church that seemed so antithetical to his existence, he looked to John’s voice. And when he finally made the decision to leave the church and live as an out and proud gay man, he chronicled his story in his solo album, Excommunication, where he also wrote this song as a tribute to the person who kept him sane during a very dark time.

“Our lives are different, different commitments
Sins and religion, what do they mean?
Some say you're evil, but I think you're real
I just want what's real from this whole thing”

Last year, I had someone privately reach out to me to say that an article during Pride Month helped them officially come out. To think that something like this Pride series could do that for one person makes it all worth it. And it’s something I still try to hold onto, even when the world feels bleak. Let’s face it, we have a lot of adversaries out there. I look around and see a country that’s tearing itself apart. A dangerous virus is killing thousands of people around the world. We have an administration that’s actively trying to roll back LGBTQ+ protections. I see my Black friends deeply hurting. It can feel hopeless. 

“John, Give ‘Em Hell” reminds me that Progress is measured in time. That we are all a work in progress and that we must all take a stand to be that beacon of light that John was to Tyler and, presumably, other unknown closeted members of the church.  

Listening to the song today gave me a different perspective. Yes, the “John” he’s talking about may be a real person, but he’s also talking about us. He’s telling us that we must persevere. That we must make a stand in the face of adversity and not let the bigots win.

We must give them hell.

“And John, keep on keeping on
There’s work to be done
In the meantime give 'em hell”

That’s why I host Gayly Helpful. To help promote voices. To give our community a platform to speak from. To maybe add a voice that isn’t represented often in the horror community. At the same time, we raise funds in the hopes that we can secure the future of our queer family by protecting the most vulnerable members while giving them the resources to get through the tough times. 

The song reminds me that when we speak up, we join a chorus of voices that resonate throughout time and continue the tradition of standing up for what’s right. For speaking out for those who can’t or aren’t able to. For those who don’t know how. To honor our family who stood up at Stonewall. To fight against bigotry and those that want to Other us into oblivion. To fight that little fucker that sits on our shoulder and tells us we’re not good enough. 

“And give 'em hell
Give 'em hell
Give 'em hell”

This month, you’ve shown what the horror community can do. With this fundraiser, sure. But also the Gaylords of Darkness fundraiser, The BMD Black Lives Matter Fundraiser and all the myriad of other fundraisers I’ve seen supporting places like Black Visions Collective and the Minnesota Freedom Fund. 

Please don’t vanish once the protesting stops or when Pride Month is over. Queer people, women and BIPOC face persecution, pain and strife 12 months a year; it’s not relegated to a specific month or national news story. We’ve got to “keep on keeping on.” 

So as Gayly Helpful 2020 comes to a close, I want to thank you so much for all of the support, the donations, the signal boosts, and the public and private messages of support. I want to thank our passionate contributors who gave us funny things to read. Who gave us new ways of appraising our favorite movies. Who dug deep and touched on some incredibly personal and powerful messages. Our community is diverse and if this month showcased even a fraction of that diversity, then I’m happy.

“And John, keep on keeping on
Don't let them think they've won”

As the song goes, there’s still work to be done. We have a long road ahead of us. And it isn’t going to be easy. As for me, I’m a work in progress, too. I’ve messed up more than once this last year. I still struggle with self-confidence. And that little fucker is still there on my shoulder, telling me that this is all a charade and that the people who say they care actually don’t.

I’m working on it.

I’m not perfect and the world certainly isn’t perfect, either. There’s progress. But there’s also roadblocks; demons both real and imagined that keep us down. Please keep pushing back against those monsters. The bigots who want to silence your voice. That little fucker perched on your shoulder. Show them they aren’t winning. We are. The road is long, the destination is far. We’ve got to keep on, keeping on. And in the meantime? 

Give ‘em hell. Give ‘em hell. Give ‘em hell.