The Silent MAJORITY

[September 24th, 2003] Portland might get its own queer community center. Sam Adams might become our next mayor. And I just might be out of a job.

Stranger things have happened.

Adams, as you know, is the former chief of staff for Mayor Ver Katz. He's also openly gay and deciding whether to run for mayor himself. (More on that next week.)

Last week, over coffee with "will he, or won't he?" Adams and a posse of his pals, I had a first chance to look at the results of a comprehensive survey devoted exclusively to local gay, lesbian, bi and trans folks.

Of the 67,000 "Out With It!" surveys distributed earlier this summer, more than 1,500 forms had been filled out, returned and tabulated. The responses are loaded with lots of personal and pertinent information, but one of the primary goals of survey collectors was to find out if there was any interest in creating a queer community center in P-town.

I was surprised by what I found out--not just about the overwhelming support for a center, but about my place in this community and even about myself.

I've gone on record with my resistance to filling out this survey (see QW, July 23). How I didn't think we needed a space devoted to our special interests, how it would become a gay ghetto...blah, blah, blah.

Well, I guess I really am in the minority. More than 95 percent of the survey takers said a center would be helpful for the community.

Huh? How could I be so out of touch with my peeps?

After looking at the numbers, it's easier to see where our community priorities lie and where mine differ.

According to the results, Portland queers want more: More civil rights. More interaction within their own community. And more protection.

I was appalled to see that, while three out of 10 queers claimed to have suffered some sort of indignity due to their sexual orientation, the numbers are more than double for transgendered folks--seven out of 10 have been discriminated against in some way.

For these people, I assume, a center would become a visible symbol that would enrich their place in this city, but would also help eliminate the feeling that they're on the margins of the mainstream.

Hell, that sounds a lot like writing a column.

One of the most enriching aspects of this job is that I get to speak up and ask blunt questions, without repercussions. Not only that, as an out columnist, I'm able to move between the straight and gay world pretty well. In fact, I might claim that I almost always feel welcome in both. Is that the case for everybody? I don't think so.

Perhaps everyone needs a place to go where people know his or her name. I've got a column. Sure, some people might call it a bully's pulpit, but the fact is, this is one place where one fag can say what he thinks. Perhaps a community center could provide a voice for hundreds, or thousands, of queers.

Perhaps it's time they were heard.

And perhaps it's time the rest of us finally listened.