Choosing Myself

I remember when I was a kid I was watching Beverly Hills 90210. In a famous scene where I am ashamed to say I got emotionally invested, Kelly had two suitors. One was Brendan Walsh, the self-righteous good guy import from Minnesota. The other was the trust fund tormented on again/off drug addicted bad boy Dylan McKay. As they are jockeying for her, Kelly tells them, “I choose me.”

Yes. I am ashamed I know this and it is etched in my memory. I am a child of the 90s, which means I have watched all the Lifetime Moment of Truth Movies. Yes, Kellie Martin is my oppressed woman spirit animal.

However, it makes sense for this next part of the blog so bear with me.

Fast forward many years later. I am crashing the Gay Pride Parade with my boss Bruce and my friend B. I am dressed in an outfit from my costume box. B is dressed like Diana Ross. And Bruce is himself. Of course we had a new adage to our group, a youngster by the name of Juicy with rainbow socks who sometimes spoke in an English accent, and sometimes a Jersey accent. Perhaps he was trying to be Madonna. Bruce was making the most of his Pride trip, and had his Grindr app out and ready to go.

When not running the singing telegram company, Bruce is a meditation expert and yogi. When I freak out over the phone Bruce is always telling me to breathe. He is telling me to come to peace with the crazy. Then again, it’s easy for Bruce. He always has some hot guy in his bed.

The morning had been a crazy one. I had gone to church, and now was getting ready for Pride. While the label of the church I attend is Christian, I consider myself more of a Believer. The reason I use that tag is because I grew up with so called Christians who were hateful people. The only way God was ever going to love you was if you were straight and white. Otherwise you were Shit Outta Luck. My belief is God didn’t make a mistake when he created anyone, and assholes come in all shapes, sizes, and orientations. Same with good people. So yeah, in the words of the Monkeys, “I’m a believer!” Okay, bad joke.

Anyway, on my way to the parade, I was walking past the community center of sorts. This weird fringe church rents it out. In NYC, space is expensive, and when you can make extra money on the space you do it. And when I say these people are bizarre, they scare the living willies out of me. But their money is green like everyone elses, right? Anyway, this unfortunate looking young woman was standing out front, scowling. Apparently, her belief system is once you turn your life and will over to whatever crazy God they worship you have to throw away your comb and say goodbye to MAC cosmetics because they are made by Satan. She had mousy brown hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in several weeks let alone combed, Ramona Quimby freckles, and a blue shirt with a Bible quote. Yes, we are talking a stable individual. Because all normal people just have those clothing items laying around.

I would have had no problem with God girl except for what she said when she saw me walking down the street in my costume. She said to her friend wearing a red shirt with a Bible verse, “I can’t believe my eyes. Look at that thing. You better get the children inside before it comes any closer.”

I don’t know what was worse, her fashion sense or her shitty personality. No wonder good Christian men look at porn, Jesus! Plus to even indicate I might hurt children is just terrible and asinine on so many levels. But she was bitching because she knew I was headed to the Gay Pride Parade. Why else would I be wearing a flamboyant outfit, and why else would she be seething and scowling? So basically this was a Twat for Jesus. Even in the most liberal city in America, it’s amazing how bigots still are wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing. This is why Upworthy continues to fight. Idiots unfortunately have opinions and homophobia is alive and well.

Nonetheless, I shook off the Twat for Jesus when I got to the parade. Bruce is an expert parade crasher. I did not know this until he told a white lie. We were late and were trying to catch up with our float. As we crashed, we picked up Juicy as I mentioned. Finally, we decided on the Google float because it had the best music. We danced alongside this group of strangers. Officer E, my gay puppet, nicknamed Officer Handsome and Officer Bottom by my gays on various occasions, marched/crashed with us as well. He was frisking gay boys and kissing the ladies. Skipping down the street, I high fived and hugged strangers. It was peaceful and fun. Rumor has it the cops fight over who will work the Pride Parade because there are never any fights. Seriously, they throw sparkles and make the world pretty? How could you hate the gays?

Down the street, a young woman recognized me from television. Actually, she recognized Officer E from his Travel Channel clip. I was just there. She hugged me, kissed me on the lips, and without warning shoved her tongue down my throat. She was quite beautiful so I didn’t mind. Plus in the state of New York I can have both an ex-husband and an ex-wife if I so desire. However, some warning about the tongue would have been nice.

After having a stranger’s tongue shoved down my throat, which made me feel pretty because it had been a long winter, I came across a church supporting the Parade. They held up signs that said, “God created you, knew what he was doing, and Jesus thinks you are FABULOUS!” I wish Twat for Jesus could have seen that. I wish she could have seen me being tongue kissed by a stranger and Bruce on his Grindr app getting lucky. Then her head would explode. That would truly be an act of God. Unfortunately, she was probably getting anal from some closeted kid who was too ashamed to come out because he still needs to graduate from his Christian high school. And plus he can dream she’s a dude and anal doesn’t count, right?

We ended up joining the float of the gay football team for a bit. And basically we danced for forty blocks. As the parade wound down, and Officer E got a shout out from the drag queen emcee, Bruce and I found ourselves in deep conversation.It was about love. It was about distinguishing between love and love/hate. We agreed that love/hate was always bound to end in disaster because it would turn to pure hate. Bruce explained people entered into these relationships because they always wanted to be chosen. They were desperate to be chosen, therefore putting out something that wasn’t real to the world. Bruce explained that is why you must always choose you.

He told me once I figured out who I was completely, it would be easier to choose myself. And that way I could find a relationship that was not only loving but real. It was because I would find a partner that chose himself. And because we chose ourselves we wouldn’t be desperate and wouldn’t put out something to the world that was fake. This was deep, way deep. It was also true.

It made perfect sense on a core level. When it came to love I never chose myself. My disaster of an engagement was me choosing someone else and making him my Higher Power because I believed no one would ever want me. Instead, I found myself isolated from my friends and family because I didn’t want them to know how badly I was really being treated.

Then I chose a number of people who weren’t worthy of my company, and got upset when they didn’t choose me. Most of the time I felt like my brain was being sucked out, and I was wasting my time doing stupid shit with these shitheads. Finally, I found a guy who treated me alright. Everyone around me pressured me to choose him. I did. I figured he was a lawyer and I could have a great life. But he ended up being one of the biggest liars I have ever met. This dude could lie about the weather and do it with a straight face.

Why me? I didn’t deserve this. But yes I did kind of. I was being inauthentic and was desperate to be treated well after being used as a punching bag. Everyone was quick to point out he had a job and I was forced into the relationship by those around me. I chose him and I chose what I thought I was. I didn’t choose me.

During various points in my life, I found myself desperate and wanting things, only to have them repelled by the universe. Bruce explained because of my state of desperation I wasn’t giving them the option of accepting me. He explained to envision my day, and choosing what I would want to do during that day and time. Rather than having my time wasted by idiots doing stupid things, etc. Bruce explained when I did this, my world would materialize and everything would open up to possibility.

As we had this discussion, I saw all the young gay kids. These days, they are coming out as teenagers it seems. They were only starting to do that in my time. Seeing them made me realize these kids lived in a world that not only doesn’t want us to choose ourselves, but they were being told on a larger scale not to choose themselves because what they were was wrong. They had the finger pointed at them by mobs of morons like Twat for Jesus. Already, none of us ever feel good enough from time to time for any variety of reasons. But this was making it worse.

Suddenly, there was a part of me that felt super, duper important for crashing the Pride Parade with B and Bruce. I was letting these kids know it was okay to be who you were, no matter who that person was, as long as you lived and loved safely without injury to yourself or others. I was letting these kids know that they counted. Yes, they could choose themselves. That way they didn’t have to choose something else like a partner who treats them like crap or any other time wasting vice.

Or maybe we are just giving ourselves too much credit.

I also thought of Bruce, and how spiritual he is. He is loving and accepting of all beings, even his most difficult of clients. The Twat for Jesus on the other hand is judgmental, bigoted, and a hateful bully. I grew up with shitheads like her. Of course, this made me want to see Bruce fight the Twat for Jesus. He would kick her ass with his mind waves and meditation vibes.

And then I thought of it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t reading the Bible. If she did she would know Jesus was a peace lover, accepted all people, and by all standards would be a socialist today. Instead, she is embracing hate speech that probably aren’t even her own words. If she was asked to explain her beliefs, she probably couldn’t do it. The poor thing is so confused and probably doesn’t have a cohesive thought of her own. Most bigots who hide behind the shield of empty faith and misused Bible quotes don’t. She’s not choosing to have her own thoughts. She isnt choosing to ask questions. She isnt choosing her. Poor thing, no wonder she is so lost.

As I get older, I get better about accepting who I am, liking it, and going with the program. I look like a baby doll that escaped from a toy store. My hair is bright blonde. I talk like a red neck chipmunk on meth. I am exceedingly eccentric but am good under pressure. I am a puppet master, singing telegram deliverer, and verbose writer.

I am also stressed out host/producer. So come to my show/book signing at Don’t Tell Mama 343 W. 46 st.

And when all the forces of nature are pulling me and I feel stressed and like I am not enough, a desperate woman. I will look them in the eye and say, “I choose me!” 

Everyone's Gone to the Moon (Jonathan King)

My parents were kids of the 1960s. It was when space exploration began. It was when Neil Armstrong first set foot on the moon. Years later, in his work as a lawyer my father would meet John Glenn. Actually, it was Senator Glenn. Like everyone else in the whole world it seemed he was friends with my Uncle Mack. Well, he wasn't really my uncle but he was a near and dear friend of my dad's we called Uncle Mack.

 Uncle Mack lived with his common law wife Felicia, who invented earrings. The earrings she invented were designs that covered one's whole ears. Ballroom dancers and women of that variety typically sported my aunt's creations. Felicia had a son who was gay. Her explanation for this was that when he was sixteen years old, he was abducted by aliens. It had all begun in a supermarket parking lot. He had gone to return the cart to it's rightful place and disappeared. Her son Donny turned up six months later. Apparently Donny was wandering the street with his head shaved speaking in tongues. The once proud cassanova was now after men. He came out to his parents and they were shocked. The father disowned him. Felicia shrugged and blamed it on the UFOs.

Donny and Felicia became notorious on the party circuit. Felicia would tell the story about the UFO abduction, and Donny would show off the scars in the back of his head where he claimed they put on brain plugs. Felicia would say this was the exact moment Donny became gay. Donny would talk about how a huge alien came up to him and this is where it happened. Conversion Therapy was a constant course of action but always failing. My father's theory was that Donny wasn't abducted by aliens. Instead he was just doing a lot of drugs as a result of being raised by his mother. This is why he went along with the alien story so willingly.

When my dad would talk about Felicia, he would grimace. He put up with her because he loved my Uncle Mack like the surrogate father he never had. Uncle Mack would respond by changing the subject to an exciting story about his days as a Teamster, like the time he dodged a car bomb Jimmy Hoffa planted in his car. Everyone would be entranced and the conversation would not be so strange.

Once my sister Skipper made the mistake of asking what planet the aliens were from. She was seven and didn't realize Felicia was cukoo for coca puffs. My brother Wendell elbowed her and that was the end of that. It was an excellent question, so excellent that I think it's better even to this day that the answer remains a mystery.

Felicia went so far as to take this theory to my Pop Pop. Yes, my dearly departed grandfather. He was a Navy Vet from World War II that served in the Pacific Theatre. After the war, he married my Nunni and served as a swim coach for his six children and meet ref. A mild mannered guy who loved to laugh, my grandfather was generally easy going and accepted everyone. Felicia found herself speaking to my Pop Pop. She got to the place in the story where her son got abducted by aliens and turned gay. My Pop Pop had enough and walked away. He said to my mother, "What is wrong with that woman? On second thought I don't want to know. Keep her away from me."

"Oh you mean Felicia. She's crazy." My mom replied apologetically. She and my Pop Pop were quite close.

My Pop Pop just took a breath and said to my mom, "Annie, she says her son got abducted by aliens."

"I know." My mom said.

Pop Pop then told her, "She says that's why he's gay."

"I know Dad. I know." My mom repeated. She had heard the story a million times like we all had. It got more bizarre every time.

"You know, her kid's gay. He isn't hurting anyone. Why can't she just deal with her gay son and stop making up some stupid story? It makes the kid's life worse and it makes her sound like an idiot." My grandfather observed. He was right.

Felicia's son might or might not have been abducted by aliens, but accepting that he was gay was difficult for her. This was still the 90s, the age of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. My grandfather despite his advanced age had more insight than anyone at the party. He could cut through the crazy story to see the truth, and wouldn't stick around to hear any of the bullshit.

This week my grandparents would have been married for sixty something odd years had they both lived. For the record, I have a cousin who has been struck by lightening three times and survived. So we are good at knowing which crazies are real and which aren't.

RIP Pop Pop.

Love
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Pre-order my DVD Broke and Semi-Famous @
www.aprilbrucker.com

Weiner Whack

Yesterday I was part of the festivities when DOMA was lifted. Celebrating that our world was changing for the better, I was doing some political activism. Yesterday, I was canvassing for Yetta Kurland. Unlike many of her opponents, Yetta is a true Progressive on the Democratic ticket. She cares not only about the LGBTQ Community but also women. She fights for women's rights whether it comes to our right to choose or equal pay for equal work regardless of gender. Not to mention Yetta campaigns for animal rights and I loooovvvveee the people working on her campaign. And she is a friend of my friend Carlos Valentin who by the way is a fabulous director. So yes, I am on Team Yetta.Oh and she accepted my friend request on facebook and tweeted back at me. Team Yetta it is!

TEAM YETTA!!!!!!!

Anyway, I was minding my own business canvassing. I got hugs from strangers and people were being really nice to each other. Even when people didn't want to sign the petition they were nice. It's because they had signed fifty others or they were too busy on their way to make out now that they could get married. That is when I saw some action.

They was some chatter. I look over and there he is, Anthony Weiner. Yes, he was the politician who showed his pee pee to that girl. He was disgraced. He had to resign. His wife was four months pregnant. It was all bad. And then he was replaced by a Republican (YUCK!) But nonetheless he was still a good candidate and a good politician. Before the arrival of Mr. Weiner, no pun intended, I had been talking to his canvassers and they said that they got to meet him and he was mucho coolio. So as he was running around I decided to snap a pic with him.

Anthony Weiner and I on the historic day DOMA was lifted

I figure yes his last name is ironic. Yes he is a Democrat reminiscent of Bill Clinton in some ways. On the other hand he cares about working people, the middle class, families, LGBTQ People, and women. Especially women, but that is in a different way-couldn't resist, sorry. On the other hand his heart is in a good place. Now hopefully he keeps it in his pants cause voters are stoopid. Sigh McSigh Sigh

xoxoxo
April
I Came, I Saw, I Sang: Memoirs of a Singing Telegram Delivery Girl
Paperback available on Amazon and 877-Buy-Book
E-Book available on Kindle and Nook, also through Brown and NYU Books
Audiobook available on itunes and Audible this Summer
www.youtube.com/aprilthestarr
Portion of proceeds go to Ali Fornay Center

Teaching Moments

This past week a friend of mine Melanie, who happens to be transgendered, made me think. After an adventure where I visited a close friend in Union Square and saw a trans woman who I believe was working as a prostitute with her frightening looking pimp in the Dunkin Donuts. Since the element of people were getting shady my friend and I left. In between fright and awe I made a glib remark on facebook that I thought was funny.

I got a few likes and that’s when Melanie came down on the thread like white on rice in a snowstorm on a paper plate challenging my perceptions. I did not know for a fact the woman was going to work as a prostitute. Even if she was who was I to judge her? Unfortunately trans people don’t exist on paper. While the state of NYC is making it easier to change the birth certificates it is still a long drawn out process therefore these people are pushed into the sex trade often against their own will and are often the subject of violence because sometimes they have to conceal their true gender identity such as Venus Xtravanganza of Paris is Burning.

Then a fan letter from a trans woman I received came flooding back to me. A few months back I had a transman on my show at the inception of Confessions on YouNow.com. This transwoman wrote me afterward thanking me for giving people like her “a voice.” She told me because she was trans, male biologically but female identified, she has been subject to verbal and physical harassment as well as violence. This fan letter not only brought tears to my eyes because not only did this woman reach out to me in a beautiful way, but also because people have made her life a nightmare because she lives in a world that often tells her there is no place for her. While she tells me her life has gotten better I know it was a long, dark journey into the woods to get to the end of the rainbow.

Then I thought of my own buttons and own triggers. This past year I was blessed to be on TV quite a bit. While he was the subject of a comedy act that has never failed me, for the first time in a long time I spoke about the verbal and physical abuse I suffered at the hands of my ex fiancé. I spoke about how he wanted to rob me of my ventriloquism, my family and everything that made me happy so he could have me to himself. After we broke up he started stalking me. The stalking was so terrible I wore running shoes in case he would make an appearance wherever I was. My mother kept his name on the refrigerator in case I disappeared. That is just the tip of the iceberg.

As a result of me being on TV and speaking about this I received fan letters from young people who have been bullied and young women who escaped abusive relationships as well as those trying to get out. What broke my heart was when one woman claimed she deserved this. For years certain rap songs with the lyrics “Smack up my bitch” drove me up the wall as well as songs where men spoke about women as sexual objects cutting them down. Not to mention jokes with punchlines like, “The bitch has two black eyes because you told her twice” made me want to hit the person back. It’s not because I was a tightwad with no sense of humor, it’s because I knew what those jokes perpetuated and I knew how harmful that behavior could be to people just as Delaney and many trans folk know how certain jokes can be hurtful and encourage harmful behavior as well.

A few months back I was on a radio show where the hosts joked about a guy who broke up with a girl and went so far as to post her number online telling everyone she was giving away free sex and even put her address up. The male hosts baptized him “the best guy ever” and talked about “how he ruled” and how “this bitch must have deserved it.” Meanwhile my ex had done something similar, putting a photo of me up online that I sent him in a bikini and wrote “Easy Slut” over it. I did nothing to this man except break off an abusive relationship and beg him to get the help he needed. I tried to speak up but after a few minutes gave in to the straight, white male privileged agenda. However that bothered me so much that when they asked me to come back to the show I couldn’t do it. Part of it was that I would just make myself angry, but the other part of it was that I was ashamed for not sticking up for that young woman.

However I would soon get my chance to have plenty of teaching moments as far as the subject went. I am not only a show host on YouNow.com but a regular broadcaster with these folks. On the site I interface with a lot of people, young people, from all over the world. I have spoken several times about being a survivor of dating violence and how it isn’t just an issue for young straight people but people of any gender, orientation and nationality. To my pleasant surprise not only do these young people get it but have written to me with their experiences.

Sometimes though, we get a few young ones on YouNow who use the “f” word in reference to gay people and make other homophobic remarks about how gay people deserved to be bashed. After seeing this a few times I decided to speak up and told these young offenders why such language was not only wrong but harmful. I talked about a friend of mine who was jumped by four men in his neighborhood because he was gay and one had a knife. My buddy tried to fight back and got away but he had a scar of his cheek as a result of the knife fight. Although he always wore cover up the scar remained. Roger only told me the story once but never told it again. Bottom line, saying gays deserved to be punched lets some wayward soul lets some wayward soul believe the abhorrent behavior is okay. I knew sharing the story could get these kids to turn on me. Drenched in disgust I was okay with that.

To my pleasant surprise the majority of the young people verbally lambasted the hateful hater and his buddy in the chat. Many of the youthful broadcasters that evening got on camera not only to back up what I was saying but also to let this person know that everyone deserved to have rights no matter who they were and that physical and verbal assault on a person regardless of their sexual orientation was NOT OKAY! It was not only a welcome relief but lead me to believe that this past year I have been given the exposure and platforms I have not only to entertain but to educate and speak up.

This let me know that perhaps I had to speak up more. I now crack down on people for any sort of hate speech in the chat as well as during their broadcasts. This is hate speech directed at women, minorities or anyone telling people to “smack a bitch.” To my surprise these kids have listened to me. While I could get on a soapbox and toot my horn which I am in effect doing now it reminded me that it only takes one person to speak up and to change things making the world a safer place for others.

My poppyseeds, as I have nicknamed my young fans, have written to me on various occasions for advice whether on mundane dating problems or more severe issues facing young people.  It is not only flattering that they reached out to me, but a blessing that they consider me a role model. I have also received countless letters this year from lots of young people and not only do I love hearing about my young fans but also like to know that I am helping people. Whether it’s letting someone know that even though they are being bullied for being different it gets better. Or letting that person know who was a victim of dating violence that there is light at the end of the tunnel. Or better yet, a trans person who saw my show and was thankful someone like myself gave someone like them a safe, welcoming place to show the world that they weren’t some freakish being but a person like everyone else.  Bottom line, my job has become much bigger than telling a few jokes and entertaining.

Now I know I am doing the right thing by speaking up and letting people know what is and isn’t okay. Every once in a while I have to tell people even joking about dating violence isn’t okay and that it is an issue for anyone regardless of orientation, gender or race. I have to remind people words and slurs are hurtful and encourage not only harassment of marginalized groups. Will I lose friends? Perhaps. Along my travels I already lost a few but at the same time have gained many true supporters and fans. Then again, as I recall not everyone liked Nelson Mandella for speaking up. That’s why they threw him in jail.

If at the end of the day someone calls me a “militant feminist” because I come down on deadbeats who abuse women so be it. If someone calls me sensitive because I lambast someone for homophobia, transphobia, racism or any other form of hate speech so be it. It lets me know I am doing the right thing and am making the world a better place. If that makes me crazy to some people oh well. There is not a reward for doing the right thing only knowing that you did it.

Oh and watch my show Confessions this Sunday night from 8-10 pm EST on younow.com’s talk 2 channel. See you there xo April