Tampa Calling

A dear friend of mine is in the midst of the arduous, exhilerating, terrifying and liberating process of coming out. She recently wrote to me about the central role certain music has played in helping her to interpret and cope with her whirlwind emotions. I’ve combined her suggestions with a few of my own favorites to create a soundtrack that is guaranteed to make anyone’s coming out possible, bearable and even totally awesome.

Prince, Cream: I’ve chosen this raunchy classic primarily for the obvious reason, but also for its subtext of affirmation and empowerment: “Do your dance / Why should you wait any longer? / Take your chance / It can only make you stronger.” So true.

Bruce Springsteen, Rosalita (Come Out Tonight): I don’t think Bruce knew he was writing the following lines for me and gay people everywhere, but we should still thank him for them: “Closets are for hangers. Winners use the door / So use it, Rosie, that’s what its there for!” Although set in a fairly cliche heterosexual context, this song is all about sexual defiance, transgression and freedom. It resonates with queer audiences in a profound way.

Ani DiFranco, Shameless: This spunky jam about a clandestine same-sex love affair was critical in my own coming out journey. Ani communicates the experience of being closeted in characteristically clunky couplets like “We’re in a room without a door and I am sure without a doubt / They’re gonna wanna know how we got in here and they’re gonna wanna know how we plan to get out.” Check out a rousing performance (complete with a full-throttle audience sing-along) after the jump.

Read the rest of this entry »

Bob Greene is a traumatologist. This somewhat morbid designation means precisely what you think it means: Bob is a certified expert in psychic pain. The Florida State University Traumatology Institute conferred this title upon him, but his years of practice as a licensed clinical social worker are the true source of his expertise. In this capacity he has counseled thousands of people, including survivors of some of the greatest collective traumas of our time.

The day after the September 11 terrorist attacks he drove to New York City to counsel people in the financial district who had watched helplessly as planes crashed into buildings, emergency rescue vehicles unknowingly drove over top of human remains and fire, smoke and ash consumed everything comforting and familiar. In the wake of Hurricane Katrina, Bob provided counseling for the Tampa Bay 2-1-1 volunteers who spent two weeks in Monroe, LA fielding 2,000 calls a day from storm survivors in desperate need of rescue, shelter, psychiatric medication or even food after going without for three days.

Here’s how Bob, a man as unassuming and unpretentious as his name, describes his work: “I talk to folks just like me: bozos on the bus just trying to make it through this crazy world. I listen. There’s something about saying it out loud.” Here’s how I, a lifelong songwriter and singer, describe Bob’s work: He’s a pad of paper, a journal or a napkin and a bartender’s pen. He’s the multitrack Tascam I used to record my fist song when I was a sophomore in high school. He’s an open mic night or a house concert with a particularly gracious and responsive audience. He’s an opportunity to let the inside out, to let thought hit air.

I met Bob in my capacity as the director of Impact-Florida, a GLBT rights organization formed in response to the passage of Amendment 2. One of my members caught wind that Bob was starting a support group for people struggling to come to terms with their sexuality or with that of a friend or loved one and urged me to meet with him to find out what Impact-Florida could do to help. He was obviously impressed with Bob’s credentials and experience, but what resonated with him (and eventually with me) the most was Bob’s story. Read the rest of this entry »