This past Saturday night I went to a Jazz and Burlesque show. It was amazing to say the least. The best part of the whole experience was the intimate setting with around 15 tables of people packed in. But the good part is that every single table was different from the next (people-wise). I know this because the “ring-leader” of the night was an ambiguous figure that goes by the name of Murray Hill. She looked more like a he, or did he have she qualities? We will never know because Murray Hill wouldn’t tell us! S/He knew damn well we were all wondering because S/He sang a little show tune about it.
Before the show started Murray Hill went around the room and examined each table. “Hey, you Lesbians in the corner. Welcome.” “What is this table? 8 pretty girls and a Homosexual?” ß This was our table, and yes our friend is Gay. This person Murray held nothing back and the crowd didn’t care. In fact, everyone loved it. Old, young, bisexual, transgender, black, white, Indian … everything under the sun, it was like the Census was in the room.
I never felt more of a community atmosphere than in this room. Why does the media portray people in such awkward lights? It makes a “big deal” about, maybe not knowing someone’s gender. Who cares? Why does our culture feel so compelled to name every person and object we see?