Oreo celebrates Gay Pride Month

I'm not surprised that the haters came out in force when Oreo posted a picture on its Facebook page of a rainbow-themed cookie to celebrate Gay Pride Month. (Sadly it's only an illustration, not a real cookie.)

The nasty comments were what you'd expect but there was one that really irritated me. It went something like this: Why would a company risk alienating 97 percent of (presumably straight) consumers to curry favor with the 3 percent who might be gay or lesbian.

That argument is particularly insidious because at first glance, it sounds logical. What business wants to anger 97 percent of the people who might buy its product? But it has the effect of marginalizing the other 3 percent by setting them apart from the rest of America. It's divisive and demeaning.

(I wonder whether this person thinks it's a mistake for supermarkets to cater to Jews with displays of matzo and gefilte fish during Passover? Jews are even less than 3 percent of the population. And you know about the special Coca-Cola we get, right?)

Beyond that, the argument is 100 percent wrong because it ignores just how much American attitudes toward homosexuality have changed. This is not 1960, when gay people were forced to live furtive lives in the shadows of society or pretend that they were straight.

Surveys show an ever-increasing number of straight Americans have someone in their life who's gay or lesbian. And knowing someone who's gay translates into greater acceptance. The younger you are, the more likely that's true. So thinking about what Oreo did in terms of 97 percent versus 3 percent is a total fallacy.

To put it plainly, there are plenty of cookie-eating straight people who support our gay friends. And plenty of cookie-eating gay people as well. They're out, they're proud and we love them year-round. When a company like Kraft, whose Nabisco division makes Oreos, reaches out to them, it makes us want to support that company, too.

A spokesman said that Kraft "has a proud history of celebrating diversity and inclusiveness. We feel the Oreo ad is a fun reflection of our values." Well those are my values, too. So next time I'm at the supermarket, I'll toss a package of Oreos into my cart. (Here's Buzzfeed on what some other snacks would look like showing their pride.)

The anti-gay bigots may think they're the majority in the United States but the percentages - and time - are not on their side.

Good riddance to Brett Ratner

Good riddance to Brett Ratner and if Eddie Murphy wants to follow him, that's fine. The dignity of my gay friends is more important than allowing Ratner to produce the Oscars in the wake of his homophobic remark.

I was reading the comments on the Los Angeles Times website when the story first broke. Although some were supportive, many were along the lines of "Why do they have to be so sensitive?"

Well, I don't know if you've ever been on the receiving end of bigotry but I have.

Years ago, I'd just started a new job when I was asked to bring some papers to a colleague. I was told that his last name was Junod, "like when you Jew someone down." I was shocked and I felt my face redden. I didn't know what to say. I'm not sure I said anything. I just took the material and left the room.

What I especially remember was the matter-of-fact way in which this person said it. There was no hatred or animosity in her voice. That was just the first thing that came to her mind, I guess. I'm sure she didn't know I was Jewish. I'm not sure she knew it was offensive.

Later, I wish I'd said something but when you're young, just starting in a job, it's tough. It's difficult to explain but you feel like you don't want to make a big deal out of it. As hurt as you are, somehow it's like you're on the defensive instead of the person who made the bigoted remark. Let's face it, they "got" you, and you know it.

That was a long time ago. Today, we need to put the bigots on the defensive.

There's no excuse for what Ratner said. He knew he was using an antigay slur. (As a fellow Jew, I'm especially ashamed of his behavior.) The press release that he came out with Tuesday night was laughable. His publicist hit all the right points but Ratner's remark flew too easily off of his tongue. (Just like a similar incident I blogged about in May.) Nobody goes from ignorance to enlightenment that quickly.

These days most people have learned to keep their racist and anti-Semitic remarks to themselves, or at least to choose their audience carefully. But too often slurs directed against gays and lesbians are tolerated. Or they're justified by people who hide behind their religion, as if God has given them the right to spew hatred against another human being.

How many times do you hear people say "that's so gay" as a synonym for something undesirable? Imagine hearing that kind of remark, or worse, in public all the time. That has to change but it has to come from everywhere - including at home, at school and in popular culture. The "f" word has to evoke the same revulsion, the same sense of crossing a line, as the "n" word. As columnist Mark Harris wrote, in 2011 you don't get a pass on homophobia.

Unfortunately, we still live in a world in which kids are bullied over their perceived sexual orientation, in which they kill themselves in despair. Many adults are afraid to come out in the workplace. We live in a country in which it's legal in 29 states to fire someone because they're gay or lesbian.

One thing I can tell you with certainty: as hurt as you feel when the bigoted remark is about who you are, it's much worse when it's directed against your friends, people you admire and love dearly. So if I seem a little sensitive about this, tough.

Joakim Noah's antigay slur

I wasn't going to write about Chicago Bulls center Joakim Noah - another pampered, overpaid athlete shows his bigotry in public. But when I saw a video of the antigay slur he uttered during Sunday's playoff game, I was so disturbed by it.

Noah, sitting on the bench after his second foul, was angry about something a fan said to him. The intensity of his reaction was hate-filled and frightening. Clearly, he wanted to hurl the absolute worst, most hurtful insult he could think of at that moment. And what came to mind: a vile epithet about gay people.

Now, Joakim Noah isn't some stereotypical poor kid from the 'hood who never learned the proper way to treat people. His father is Yannick Noah, the French tennis player of Cameroonian descent, and his mother, Cecilia Rodhe, is an artist and a former Miss Sweden.

Noah has since apologized and he's been fined $50,000 by the NBA. (It would be great if the money went to a group like the Trevor Project, which works to prevent suicide among LGBT youth.)

But the problem is not just what Noah said in the heat of the moment. Unfortunately too many kids, no matter what their background, grow up believing that the word he used is the worst thing you can call someone. You use it because you know it stings.

And honestly, why wouldn't they get that message when the larger society - including elected officials - go out of their way to devalue the lives and relationships of gay people? Here are just two of the most recent examples:

On Sunday, I wrote about a vote by the Minnesota legislature that will place on the ballot in 2012 a constitutional amendment defining marriage as between a man and a woman.

In Tennessee, the state Senate has approved a bill forbidding the mention of anything but "natural human reproduction science" in kindergarten through eighth grade. (It's been dubbed the "Don't say gay" bill.)

What's particularly cruel about both of these measures is that Minnesota already bans gay marriage and in Tennessee, the family life curriculum doesn't even cover homosexuality. They're examples of pure vindictiveness.

So if you're a gay kid in Tennessee, what are you supposed to think when adults believe that your classmates need to be protected from you, that what you are can't even be mentioned by name? And if you're a straight kid, what message do you think that sends about your gay classmates?

Of course none of this is an excuse for outbursts like Noah's. In addition to being bigoted it was unprofessional -- no matter what the fan said to him. But an apology and a $50,000 fine don't even begin to get at the root of the problem.

In an interview with an ESPN reporter, Noah, 26, said the slur doesn't represent who he is. Now, he has a chance to prove it.

Bigotry and the health care debate

The disgusting slurs hurled yesterday at Georgia Rep. John Lewis and other African-American members of Congress over the health care bill reminded me of something I once witnessed from the other side of the political spectrum.

In November 1997, when I was living in Israel, I went to a peace rally in Tel Aviv held in memory of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin, who had been assassinated two years earlier.

About 200,000 people crowded into the square in front of City Hall, where Rabin had spoken moments before he was killed. At the time, as now, the right-wing Likud Party was in power.

It was a young, mostly secular, left-leaning crowd at what was supposed to be a nonpartisan event, although I did see a few posters opposing then-Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu.

When the sole government representative in attendance began to speak, Industry and Trade Minister Natan Sharansky, some people started to boo him.

I couldn't believe it.

Booing Sharansky, the man who languished in a Soviet prison camp for the "crime" of wanting to immigrate to Israel? The man whose plight galvanized Jews around the world? Even if you dislike the policies of the government, how could you be so disrespectful?

Thankfully, Ehud Barak, the leader of the opposition Labor Party, walked over to Sharansky, held up his arm and called him an Israeli hero, silencing the crowd.

Well, John Lewis is an American hero, a man who was arrested and beaten as he marched and organized throughout the South in the 1960s to win African-Americans their civil rights, including the right to vote.

The invective hurled yesterday at black lawmakers, as well as at openly gay Rep. Barney Frank, is un-American and unacceptable.

House Republican leaders have denounced it but I'd like to see them leave the comfort of a CNN studio and directly confront their bigoted Tea Party supporters, some of whom seem to have a problem with the fact that we've elected a black man as president.

I have no patience with extremist behavior, whether it comes from the left or the right. Whatever your argument, it's impossible for me to take you seriously. Why anyone would think that I'd listen to the ravings of bigots is is beyond me.

A school district's lesson in hate and fear

The Itawamba County Agricultural High School in Mississippi cancelled its prom rather than allow Constance McMillen, an openly lesbian student, to attend with her girlfriend and (horrors!) wear a tuxedo.

The school district said it was concerned about the "education, safety and well-being" of the students and took the action "due to the distractions to the educational process caused by recent events."

McMillen is a courageous young woman. I can imagine that her classmates are not too happy with her right now, when they should be directing their anger at the school district. Fortunately the ACLU has taken up her cause, filing a lawsuit to get the April 2 prom reinstated.

In addition to being bigoted, this is just silly.

Who would it hurt if McMillen wore a tuxedo and brought a girl to the prom? No one. If someone doesn't like it, that's their right. But they shouldn't be able to prevent a same-sex couple from attending any more than they could prevent an interfaith or interracial couple.

A school district so concerned about the "educational process" is teaching the wrong lesson. Instead of stressing the importance of acceptance, they've taught their students that it's acceptable to be intolerant.

As usual, a show tune says it best.

Sixty-one years ago, Rodgers and Hammerstein wrote that we're not born hating or fearing anyone. We've got to be carefully taught.

Here's Glee's Matthew Morrison as Lt. Joseph Cable in the Broadway revival of South Pacific with a song that sadly, resonates today:

Homophobia in theatre reviews

I could not believe what Bloomberg News theatre critic John Simon wrote in his review of The Pride, a production of off-Broadway's MCC Theater.

In discussing his reaction to the play by Alexi Kaye Campbell, which examines gay relationships in 1958 and 2008, Simon writes "Another problem is men kissing each other ..." Then he quotes this bit of dialogue:

Oliver: The blonde one’s had his tongue in the other one’s ear since we got here.
Philip: Yummy.
Oliver: They’re sweet.

He ends the review by remarking, "I wonder how mainstream audiences will take to Campbell’s tongue in their ears."

Wow. John Simon, if you think that two men kissing is "a problem" then you clearly have "a problem" with gay people. If you can't leave your homophobia at the entrance to the theatre, then you should not have reviewed this play.

I mean, imagine the outcry if a critic had written about the musical Memphis, which features an interracial love story, "Another problem is a white man kissing a black woman." We would be outraged - and justifiably so.

At Parabasis, blogger Isaac Butler has gotten the discussion going. And apparently, Simon isn't the only theatre critic who has trouble keeping his prejudices in check. (Thanks to the West End Whingers for pointing out the following item.)

Christopher Hart penned this line in his review of Plague Over England in the London Sunday Times: “There’s also quite a lot of men kissing. I can cope with most things on stage — rape, torture, the plays of David Hare — but I still have to lower my gaze at men kissing.”

So you can put up with viewing rape and torture on stage but the sight of two men kissing forces you to avert your eyes from the horror? Unbelievable. Viewing violence against women is palatable to Hart but a display of affection between two men sends him over the edge.

I don't know whether this is simply a generational thing - Simon is 84. Or whether it's a matter of two male critics trying to prove their bona fides lest they be considered a little less than straight.

Whatever the excuse, both reviews are offensive. The stories of gay men and lesbians deserve to be told and their relationships deserve to be treated with respect. It should be that way in theatre reviews and in real life as well.

Personally, I have no problem with two men or two women kissing and being affectionate with each other. I think it's sweet. They're part of "the mainstream" and so are the rest of us who consider them friends, family, coworkers, neighbors.

The "problem" as I see it is letting the bigots control the conversation. Their voices shouldn't be the only ones that get heard.

Revisiting The Laramie Project

Monday is normally a dark night for theatres in the United States but tonight is different.

An extraordinary event will take place when more than 150 theatres present a staged reading of the same work - The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later, an 80-minute epilogue to the play about the murder of Matthew Shepard.

Today marks the 11th anniversary of Shepard's death. The 21-year-old University of Wyoming student, targeted by his killers because he was gay, was tied to a fence, beaten and left to die on the outskirts of Laramie in October 1998.

Five weeks later, members of New York's Tectonic Theater Project, including cofounder Moises Kaufman, traveled to Wyoming to interview people who knew Shepard or were connected with the case or were just ordinary citizens, straight and gay.

After a year, the transcripts were turned into the play The Laramie Project, which opened off-Broadway in 2000. It later became an HBO movie, which I watched last year.

It's a horrific story and heartbreaking to hear gay and lesbian citizens talk about how they lived quietly, in fear, before the death of Matthew Shepard. And it's also inspiring to hear how his death galvanized them, along with many straight Wyoming citizens, to speak out against homophobia, no matter what the consequences. But there are also interviews with others who seem totally unaware of their bigotry.

In 2008, Kaufman and Tectonic returned to Laramie for more interviews. They also spoke with Matthew's mother Judy Shepard, and Aaron McKinney, one of the men convicted of his murder. The Laramie Project: 10 Years Later is the result.

"We went there with a hypothesis that there would have been great change, and that was correct," Kaufman told the Los Angeles Times. "Whether the change is for better or worse or both is what people will see when they come to the show."

Greg Reiner, Tectonic's executive director, says interest in the epilogue demonstrates the power of Matthew Shepard's story "as part of our collective history and as a lesson to all about homophobia, what is means to be gay in a small town and how stories must be re-told to ensure that the legacy of these kinds of incidents is correct."

In Rhode Island, the play will be presented by students in the Brown/Trinity Rep MFA program at 7 p.m. at the Pell Chafee Performance Center, 87 Empire St., Providence; by Brown University undergraduates at the Leeds Theatre on campus at 8 p.m.; and at the University of Rhode Island's Fine Arts Center, 105 Upper College Road, Kingston, at 8 p.m. All are free and open to the public.

In Tel Aviv, baseless hate and murder

Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin was assassinated by a right-wing, religious Jew three months after I made my first visit to Israel in 1995. I was upset but also deeply shocked. I couldn't believe that one Jew would kill another Jew.

Well since then, I've spent a year living in Israel and I'm not as naive about these things. Most acts of violence in Israel are committed by Jews against other Jews. As horrified as I am by the murder last night of two people at a youth center for gay teens in Tel Aviv, I'm not shocked.

I lived in the city for a year and yes, it's a pretty open, progressive place, especially compared with Jerusalem. It doesn't have the holy sites or large Orthodox population - and the accompanying tension. I loved the people and I loved living there.

I realize we don't know yet who perpetrated this act of terror. A lone gunman dressed in black entered the center Saturday night - a popular time for going out in Israel, at the end of the Sabbath - and started shooting.

But Tel Aviv isn't immune from the deep divisions in Israeli society - between religious and secular Jews, between Ashkenazim and Sephardim. As much as I love Israel, I realize that the same intolerance and homophobia and extremism that exists everywhere exists there.

Coincidentally, last week was Tisha B'Av, the date on the Jewish calendar that commemorates the destruction of the first and second temples in Jerusalem. The Talmud teaches that sinat chinam, baseless hatred, led to the destruction of the second temple - and of a Jewish homeland.

My thoughts go out to the injured and the families of the victims. I'm sad that a country I love so much, a city I got to know so well, is once again experiencing the pain of violence fueled by hate.

Yom HaShoah

On Broadway tonight, Tovah Feldshuh, the star of Irena's Vow, will lead a candlelight ceremony in front of the Walter Kerr Theatre to mark Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance Day. In the play, Feldshuh portrays a real-life Polish Catholic woman who rescued Jewish refugees during World War II.

Taking part in the Yom HaShoah remembrance when I lived in Israel in 1998 was one of the most unique and unforgettable events of the year I spent there.

I was standing on the corner of a busy street in Tel Aviv when the memorial siren went off at 10 a.m. At first, I didn't realize it, because there was so much noise from the traffic.

But suddenly, everything went silent. Buses pulled over to the side of the road. Drivers got out of their cars. People walking along the street stopped in their tracks. Customers at a cafe got up from their chairs. Everyone stood at attention and bowed their heads. No one moved.

For two minutes, the only sound was the siren. It was a simple, yet profound and deeply felt act of communal memory. We stood still together and silently remembered, each person caught up in his or her own thoughts.

Some Jews have argued that standing silently isn't a very Jewish way to commemorate something. And they do have a point. We shouldn't just do that.

I didn't write anything a few weeks ago when the National Organization for Marriage released its "Gathering Storm" commercial, about the supposed dangers American society faces from legalizing same-sex marriage.

But today seems like a day when I ought to say something - indeed, when I'm obligated to say something. What angers me about that video is the way it presents gay and lesbian Americans as people we should fear, the way it presents their relationships as a threat to our society.

That video is disgusting and reprehensible and unAmerican. Extending equal protection hurts no one. And our gay and lesbian friends, family members, coworkers, neighbors and loved ones are not a threat to anyone.

You can read the Human Rights Campaign's statement debunking it. HRC has also set up a Web site, End the Lies, to confront the lies and distortions used to defeat LGBT equality measures.

Tomorrow, the House Judiciary Committee will take up the Local Law Enforcement Hate Crimes Prevention Act, also known as the Matthew Shepard Act. The bill would give the Justice Department the power to prosecute bias-related crimes where the victim is chosen because of their race, color, religion, national origin, gender, sexual orientation, gender identity or disability.

In The New York Times on Sunday, Frank Rich called "Gathering Storm" a turning point in the demise of America's antigay movement. "If it advances any message, it’s mainly that homophobic activism is ever more depopulated and isolated as well as brain-dead."

It may be the last gasp of the bigots but today of all days, I can't dismiss it so easily.

Whenever we present one group of people as objects of hatred and fear it becomes easier to think of them as less than human, as less deserving of equal rights. And that is the true threat to all of the values we hold dear as Americans.

A thank-you from Hallmark

In August, I wrote about four new greeting cards from Hallmark designed to celebrate same-sex weddings or commitment ceremonies.

The move, of course, prompted a boycott from the usual array of self-styled "pro-family" groups. (I guess there's a limit to being "pro-family." Apparently, gay and lesbian families need not apply.)

To show my support for the company and to counterbalance the bigots, I sent a thank-you card to Hallmark's CEO. I thanked him for the company's inclusive stance and said that I would be buying Hallmark products whenever possible.

This week, I got a letter from Hallmark thanking me, which I think is kind of nice. It said, in part, "It is our goal to be inclusive rather than exclusive so that our products appeal to the widest range of people who wish to communicate and connect with one another."

I didn't realize this, but Hallmark makes more than 20,000 greeting cards - including ones for unmarried heterosexual couples, mixed-race or interfaith relationships and blended families "so people in each of these situations can find cards that meet their needs."

I don't know how many letters Hallmark had to send to people who protested the new cards but I think that those of us who support equality and inclusiveness are sometimes too quiet about it. Whereas people who feel the other way never seem to get tired of making their views known. I'm glad I wrote to Hallmark and I'm glad someone at the company responded. At least I know that I got through.

Remembering Matthew Shepard

I was living in Israel in October 1998, so I'm not sure when I first heard about the murder of 21-year-old University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard. But sometime later, after I was back in the United States, I remember watching a segment on television about the crime.

Listening to the details of how he was tied to a fence and beaten and left to die on the outskirts of Laramie made me sick. And the fact that Shepard was targeted because he was gay made it even more horrifying.

This week marks the 10th anniversary of Shepard's death. His body was discovered on Oct. 6 and he died on Oct. 12, 1998.

One of the most noteworthy efforts to remember Shepard began five weeks after he died. Members of New York's Tectonic Theater Project, including cofounder Moises Kaufman, traveled to Laramie to interview people who knew him or were connected with the case, or were just ordinary citizens, straight and gay. After a year and more than 200 interviews, the transcripts were turned into a play, The Laramie Project. In 2002, the play became an HBO movie.

I watched The Laramie Project for the first time this week. Once again, hearing the detailed description of Shepard's injuries made me so sick that I had to turn down the volume on my tv. There are breathtaking views of the wide-open Wyoming landscape and I was struck by the contradiction of something so awful occurring in a place filled with so much beauty.

It's heartbreaking to hear gay and lesbian citizens talk about how they lived quietly, in fear, before the death of Matthew Shepard. And it's also inspiring to hear how his death galvanized them, along with many straight Wyoming citizens, to speak out against homophobia, no matter what the consequences.

But sadly, there's also a disheartening interview with a rancher and his wife, who seem totally unaware of their bigotry. They can't see the connection between saying things like, "I certainly don't approve of homosexuals" and the murder of Matthew Shepard. They don't seem to understand that their disapproval - their demonization - contributes to an atmosphere in which violence against gay people can occur.

I thought about how I would feel if the word "homosexual" were changed to "Jewish" in this excerpt:

Rancher: I think the Jewish community is taking this as an advantage, said, this is a good time for us to exploit this.
Wife: They made it sound like it was 10 murders instead of one.
Rancher: They're accusing the ranchers of being unreasonable and unsympathetic because of how he was.
Wife: And what his persuasion was. Well, he would certainly be welcome in our home we'd visit, sit down, have a cup of coffee.
Moises Kaufman: What did you think when you heard that two boys from your town did this?
Rancher: Well I certainly don't approve of Jews but I don't think anybody has a right to do what those two boys did.
Moises Kaufman: Well where do you think that comes from, their hatred toward Jews?
Wife: I think what most people fear in the Jewish community is that religion is their number one concern,
Rancher: Not many people condone it
Wife: When you wear it on your sleeve like a banner.

Of course today, they probably wouldn't talk like that about Jews, at least not openly, not to strangers who are recording their words. I'm fairly certain they would know it wasn't acceptable. But they seem perfectly comfortable expressing their disapproval of gay people, blaming them for homophobic acts, as if they had it coming.

As well-made and important as I think The Laramie Project is, my biggest fear is that people will take away from it the wrong message: that homophobia only occurs in small towns or rural America or among people from certain economic classes. But prejudice and antigay hatred and ignorance - as well as love and respect and support - occur everywhere.

Kaufman and the theater company returned to Laramie this year, to see how attitudes toward gay and lesbian people have changed, and to write an epilogue to the play. He tells The New York Times, "I guess what disappoints me isn’t so much Laramie, it’s the fact that more social progress hasn’t happened everywhere.”

One of the most moving parts of The Laramie Project comes near the end, when Shepard's father addresses the court before the sentencing of one of his son's killers and says that the family will not insist on the death penalty. His father talks about how Matthew was with God when he died. This week, as my thoughts are with all of those who knew and loved Matthew Shepard, I hope they take comfort in the knowledge that he is in a place where no one can harm him, that he is at peace.

Since Shepard's death, his parents have created an educational foundation to fight hatred. Last month, the University of Wyoming dedicated a bench in Shepard's memory. But the Matthew Shepard Act, a bill that would extend federal hate-crimes law to include crimes motivated by a person's sexual orientation, has still not been enacted into law. And, of course, hate crimes persist.

While it didn't have any connection to the anniversary of Matthew Shepard's murder, in August I joined PFLAG - Parents, Families & Friends of Lesbians and Gays. It's a coincidence, but a fitting one, I think.

Over the summer, I wrote about the successful effort to overturn a 1913 law that had been used to prevent out-of-state gay couples from marrying in Massachusetts. A dear friend e-mailed me, thanking me for being supportive and suggested that I join. I wrote him back and said it was a great idea.

I admire my friend so much for the way he's stood up against all forms of bigotry - including racism and anti-Semitism. How could I not do the same for him? Plus, as he and his partner celebrate their fifth anniversary, it seemed like the perfect way to honor their relationship - this year and every year.

I'm not normally a joiner but I'm glad that I joined PFLAG. All I have to do is look at their sweet, smiling faces and think about how much these two good men love each other, how much their friendship means to me, how proud I am to know them, and I know it was the right thing to do.

It may not be much, but it's my own little contribution toward ensuring that everyone has the opportunity that was denied Matthew Shepard - to live openly and free from fear. It is simply our right as Americans and as human beings to do so.

Fighting hate

The Web site Good as You prides itself on using humor and irreverence to document bigotry against gay and lesbian people. "Our tone is light, but our message is firm: We will not sit back and be led to a society that favors discrimination over diversity."

As you read through the stories of preachers who seem to have forgotten The Golden Rule and organizations that purport to "defend" the family while attacking some families, it's easy to feel numbed and helpless. But one item this week disgusted me to the point where I felt compelled to do something. The American Family Association has revealed its "The Top Ten Pro-Homosexual Sponsors on Television."

I don't even like mentioning the organizations' name, and I hesitated to write about this because I don't want to give them and their hate-filled campaign any further publicity. But if there's anything that the history of the 20th century has taught us, it's that we can't be silent in the face of hatred. Bigotry doesn't go away simply because we ignore it.

While the AFA and their supporters certainly have the right to their opinion, I have the right to oppose them. I hope that everyone who reads this will exercise their First Amendment rights and do what I've done: use the links so thoughtfully provided by this organization to send these companies letters of support.

So far, I've e-mailed the CEOs or left comments on the Web sites of several of the companies on the list. I told them that I use their products or services regularly and I watch the shows that they sponsor. I thanked them for their continued support of television programs that include gay and lesbian characters. I encouraged them to continue to stand firm against bigotry and for a more inclusive vision of America.

I'm under no illusion that my e-mails will have much an impact compared with the mountain of hate mail these companies will probably be getting. Unfortunately, it's usually the haters who speak the loudest and seem to command the most attention. The rest of us read what they've done, shake our heads and move on.

Sure, it's easy enough simply to be disgusted and dismiss the whole thing as lunacy. But you know, sometimes it's not enough to be disgusted and dismissive. A sense of outrage is like a part of your body, you have to exercise it to keep it healthy.