Saturday, September 17, 2011

Activists Host “Radio Summer” Event August 29

 
Goal Is to Bring Community-Based Radio to San Diego

by MARK GABRISH CONLAN

Copyright © 2011 by Mark Gabrish Conlan for Zenger’s Newsmagazine • All rights reserved

PHOTO: Kelly Barnes

Radio has the power to be a real presence in a local area and bring diverse groups together for a real sense of community. But in the U.S. that rarely happens because almost all the major frequencies are owned by giant media conglomerates and many of them are broadcasting programs that originate from production centers thousands of miles away. But the Philadelphia-based Prometheus Radio Project has been working hard to make local community-oriented radio a reality not only in far-flung rural areas but in major cities like San Diego – and on August 29, local activists gathered at the San Diego Media Arts Center in North Park for a local event as part of Prometheus’s “Radio Summer” campaign to build as many Low-Power FM (LPFM) stations as possible in San Diego and throughout the U.S.

“Radio Summer” came about as a result of Prometheus’s decade-long campaign to open up more space on the radio dial for LPFM. On January 4, their efforts paid off when the U.S. Congress passed the Community Radio Act and President Obama signed it into law. “It gives the U.S. Federal Communications Commission [FCC] authority to license over 1,000 low-power community radio stations, probably the largest expansion of community radio in our nation’s history,” said Ian Smith, national outreach coordinator for Prometheus, who addressed the local meeting via a Skype link from his home in Philadelphia.

Smith explained that LPFM licenses are issued to nonprofit organizations, including schools and churches as well as community groups. The licensees have to have educational missions and the stations have to be locally owned and operated. LPFM stations existed before the Community Radio Act was passed, but virtually all of them were in rural areas, remote from major population centers and therefore not serviced by commercial or mainstream public stations. Under the new law, and the rules the FCC approved in July to implement it, San Diego and other large cities will get access to LPFM for the first time. Prometheus’s goal, Smith said, is to get 1,000 LPFM licenses approved by the FCC by the summer of 2012.

According to Smith, LPFM and other community-based radio stations do a lot more than just broadcast news and entertainment. “Community radio has been used to clean up toxic waste, organize migrant farmworkers, clean up after Hurricane Katrina and get community and musicians exposed.” Though the stations are only allowed to broadcast at 100 watts of power, for a range of three to 10 miles, they can be a powerful organizing tool precisely because their small power and range makes them “hyper-local,” Smith explained. As newspapers continue to decline and digital media become more important, Smith said, LPFM will be an important community tool to reach a large but still localized audience.

It’s not quite clear just how soon the new LPFM stations will become a reality. According to Smith, the FCC isn’t expected to publish the actual applications for licenses until spring 2012, and would-be LPFM broadcasters will have only a three- to four-month “window” before the application deadline on June 7, 2012. Smith warned that, despite the optimistic predictions of Activist San Diego (ASD) radio general manager Kelly Barnes and others that San Diego could get four to five LPFM licenses, “we’re not sure” how many opportunities there will be because “the FCC hasn’t issued the rules yet.” He said “it’s important that groups with similar ideals work together now … because the FCC could block the licenses for years or make you time-share at awkward hours.”

One person in the meeting said he had logged on to a Web site that purported to identify potential LPFM sites and had got back the discouraging news that there would be at most just one possible station in San Diego – and it would be located in University City/Miramar, away from the city’s population center and far from the progressive communities south of interstate 8. Smith said that the site this person had looked up “won’t give you any false positives but it does give you false negatives. The FCC doesn’t have the rules yet and we won’t know where the opportunities are until January.” He pointed out that the FCC had extended the comment period during which people can write them with input on the proposed rules, and urged people to write them to demand rules that will allow San Diego to have up to five LPFM stations.

One of the announced speakers at the meeting was Makeda Cheatom, director of the World Beat Center in Balboa Park and host of a reggae program on commercial radio in San Diego for 30 years. (It now streams on the Internet at www.oneworldreggae.com.) Because of her radio experience and the World Beat Center’s roots in and outreach to the African-American community, her organization is expected to be a front-runner for an LPFM station in San Diego. Cheatom arrived only at the end of the meeting – she’d been in Mexico earlier in the day and had got stuck at the border – but Jesse, a volunteer with her group, gave a presentation for her emphasizing the need to use LPFM to reach out to immigrants and communities of color.

“There are so many immigrant communities here,” Jesse explained. “San Diego is a really vibrant city culturally, but it remains one of the most conservative cities politically. So many people don’t have a voice, and in the Right-wing media they’re reported as poor people who can’t get their shit together. We need to get their content to the airwaves so people who don’t go to the World Beat Center can fnd out what’s going on. We want to be a platform for people to stand on. We want people who are like-minded who are about communities, especially the African-American and African immigrant communities. We have Ethiopians, Somalians, Sudanese and other communities from Africa, and right now they don’t have any media outlets.”

Attorney Art Neill, director of the local New Media Rights coalition, explained the concept of “Creative Commons” licensing and how it works as an alternative to traditional copyright law. He explained that the “Creative Commons” concept was originally devised by independent software writers and engineers, who realized “that traditional copyright didn’t really apply to software.” As an alternative to commercial software from companies like Microsoft, they started writing programs of their own – and posting the code for them on the Internet so others could examine the programs, improve them and offer fixes for any bugs they might contain. “Five to 10 years ago,” Neill said, “people decided that maybe they wanted to share their content as well” and allow others to modify it or create new (so-called “derivative”) works based on it without the hassle of licensing and the expense of paying royalties.

Creative Commons is a sometimes confusing concept because there isn’t just one Creative Commons license, Neill explained. Instead there are six alternatives, all available online, which differ mainly in terms of which rights the creator keeps control over and how much he or she allows others to reuse or share the work. Some Creative Commons licenses allow for unlimited reuse, some require that the original creator be given credit, and some allow for noncommercial reuse only. Playwright Charles Mee allows other writers and acting companies to create works based on his plays, but he retains traditional copyrights so that anyone performing one of his scripts exactly as he wrote it has to license it and pay him royalties.

Neill said that Creative Commons offered LPFM stations an alternative to having to pay the high licensing fees charged by companies like the American Society of Composers, Artists and Publishers (ASCAP) and Broadcast Music, Inc. (BMI), which between them control virtually all the music heard on commercial radio. “You can find music and content you can reuse,” Neill said, either by dealing directly with local artists and asking for permission to play their songs for free, or logging onto Web sites that already offer Creative Commons music that can be downloaded and played on the air or on other Web sites.

Kelly Barnes spoke both for Activist San Diego — whose own radio project, a full-power nonprofit educational station in the Descanso/Julian area, isn’t part of the LPFM movement but will probably operate much like an LPFM station – and also for Open Media City Heights, whose proprietor, Brian Meyers, recently ran a streaming audio service covering the City Heights area with LPFM-style radio content. When Meyers had to give up this project because the Media Arts Center hired him for a full-time job, he donated his equipment to ASD to set up their own radio streaming project, both to get their content online as soon as possible and to offer a preview of what the Descanso station, KNSJ, will broadcast once it goes on the air in late 2012 or early 2013.

“ASD has a strong local identity,” Barnes said. “The vision is to build the local capacity for radio with 1,000 content producers. We would like to be both a vessel and a training program.” One of Barnes’ priorities is to demystify radio production and teach people how simple it is to create radio shows with everyday equipment. When California Governor Jerry Brown signed SB 48, the law requiring California public middle and high schools to teach the contributions of Queer people, Pacific Islanders and people with disabilities, Barnes and this reporter did a one-minute radio segment, recording an interview on Barnes’ smart phone which she later edited using open-source software. The result was picked up by the Free Speech Radio Network and aired on over 1,000 noncommercial radio stations and Web sites.

S. Brian Willson Speaks in San Diego

 
Legendary Peace Activist Offers Critique of “Civilization”

by MARK GABRISH CONLAN

Copyright © 2011 by Mark Gabrish Conlan for Zenger’s Newsmagazine • All rights reserved

LISTEN TO THIS EVENT!



Because of what he was doing the day he lost his legs — September 1, 1987, in Concord, California, when he was run over by a train he and his fellow activists were trying to stop before it could deliver arms to Right-wing governments and private armies in Central America — and his involvement in the Veterans for Peace organization, most people who’ve heard of S. Brian Willson think of him as an anti-war activist. But he’s considerably more than that. At his most recent San Diego appearance September 4 to promote his book, a combination autobiography and work of political philosophy called Blood on the Tracks, Willson presented a far-reaching critique of so-called “human civilization” and suggested it’s all been downhill since the Neolithic period, when economic scarcity forced humans to live in small communities and share equally with each other.

Willson was born on July 4, 1941 in Geneva in upstate New York. He was an unquestioning patriot — he still has a drawing he did as a boy of himself in a Fourth of July parade — until March 1969, when his U.S. Air Force unit was sent to Viet Nam. “We landed at Binh Thuy airbase in the Mekong Delta,” Willson said. “We were there to protect the airbase from being attacked.” With Richard Nixon recently sworn in as president and committed to a process of “Viet Namization” of the war — in which U.S. forces would remain simply to “train” the local troops — the mission of Willson and his unit quickly expanded.

“One month after I got there, I was asked by the Viet Namese base commander to go with one of his officers,” Willson recalled. “We had just given them a whole new fleet of fighter-bombers and we were going to be upping the body count. He had heard that the VC (Viet Cong) were infiltrating pilots who were sabotaging the bombing missions. I found the targets of the missions were inhabited farming villages. The first village I went to, the Viet Namese lieutenant went with me, and when there was smoke coming through the grass, he said to stop. The first thing I heard was cries of pain from a burning water buffalo, and when I turned around all I saw were bodies.”

Willson’s consciousness registered not only the cruelty of the attacks on civilians but also their military pointlessness. “This was midday, and the VC were only active at night,” he explained. “I started walking to my left, and soon I couldn’t walk any further because the bodies were too densely packed on the ground. I looked at a young woman holding three children, all blackened by napalm. They were dead, but their eyes were open. The napalm had melted their eyelids.”

According to Willson, he tried to report to his superiors that the raids were “a war crime and a violation of our rules of engagement,” and got exactly nowhere. “They laughed,” he recalled. “They said, ‘There are no rules of war,’ and they’re right.” When he was finally discharged from the Air Force, he returned to law school and actually got to be an attorney — only he lasted just two weeks because his body refused to allow him to stand when the judge entered the courtroom. “I left the courtroom after two weeks and never looked back,” he said. “It was a blessing that I didn’t have a career.”

In the 1970’s, Willson said, “my focus was criminology and the brutality of the U.S. justice system. For a while the Unitarian-Universalist Service Committee even paid me to do that. Then I had a psychotic flashback in 1981. I thought I had escaped the psychological issues of Viet Nam veterans, and then in 1981 I was working for a Massachusetts state senator investigating brutality at Walpole State Prison. I was right at the end of a study after almost 12 months. I was at the end of a cell block, interviewing prisoners through a little hole in my cell door. It was about 5 p.m. and the guards had gone through a staff change and had either forgotten I was in there or didn’t care. I saw two guards stomp on a prisoner and hit him with billy clubs, and at that moment I flashed back. I immediately left my interview and took the briefcase with me when I staggered out of the cell block because I was stepping over bodies on the runway — or at least that’s what my brain was perceiving.”

After a long period of recovery — “a lot of therapy, rap groups and being the director of a veterans’ center in Massachusetts before I was diagnosed with my own PTSD” (post-traumatic stress disorder) — Willson got involved in the Central American solidarity movement of the 1980’s. The movement sought to protect the Sandinista government in Nicaragua from the rebel attacks by U.S.-backed contras and also to help people in Guatemala and El Salvador protect themselves against repressive and often openly brutal U.S.-supported governments.

In 1986 Willson and three comrades started the Veterans’ Fast for Peace on the steps of the U.S. Capitol. “The fast was 47 days,” he said. “It did not seem to be causing that much consternation to the Reagan administration, but there were 500 solidarity actions across the country. We were placed on a terrorist watch list.” It was that label, Willson said — plus the solidarity trips to Nicaragua and Cuba he took later in 1987 — that got him on a government hit list and led to what he believes was a deliberate attempt to murder him by train on September 1, 1987.

The Five Blips in History

Willson regards himself as a “recovering white male” and says that “we are the products of five blips in history.” The first, he said, was humanity’s development of agriculture, which meant for the first time that human communities could produce more than they needed for their immediate survival. This meant, Willson said, that “we decided we were not part of nature,” but rather something apart and entitled to rule over nature.

According to Willson, agriculture also made it possible for humans to amass what economists call a “surplus,” which meant that the work of the many could be used to support a handful of non-working few at the top of the social order. This, Willson explained, led to “what we call ‘civilization,’ vertical, hierarchical, patriarchal societies built on militarism and a class structure from which we have never recovered.”

The second “blip” Willson described was the “Eurocentric conquest, from 1500 to now, in which 20 percent of the world plundered the other 80 percent, including dispossessing the native tribes and capturing Africans to be chattel slaves. These blips shaped our thoughts, structures and values.” The third “blip” was the industrial revolution, which Willson said started with “the use of coal to speed up transportation and manufacturing.”

The fourth blip was “the oil blip of the last 150 years, in which we took one-half the earth’s entire carbon supply out of the ground and put it in the air, water and soil, and sped up agriculture and manufacturing.” The fifth and most recent blip was “the American middle class,” Willson said — particularly in the 1950’s, when, flush with victory after World War II, we “sped up consumption and promised ourselves a wonderful life. I have for some time realized that I am recovering from that whole process.”

Willson said some things at his presentation, sponsored by the local progressive organization Activist San Diego, that may have shocked even his friendly audience. He said flat-out that people should not vote or participate in the electoral system in any way, on the ground that it only validates an essentially inhuman system. Asked about the ability of people outside the U.S. to admire Americans as people even while opposing the policies of our government, Willson said they shouldn’t let us off the hook that way. “I see ourselves as much more complicit than they do,” he said. “No power structure can function without the consent of the people.”

What Willson wants to see is the U.S. people turning out in the streets in massive numbers and withdrawing that consent. He’s organizing people around the country for an action starting October 6, what he calls a “U.S. Autumn” — analogous to the “Arab Spring” — in which people will go to Washington, D.C., occupy its buildings and streets, and refuse to leave. “The friends I know are buying one-way tickets,” Willson said, “ and I know if I go to that action I’m not planning to do anything else for a long time. It’s about arrest or risking arrest, injury or death. I have to be willing to do that.”

PATRICK McMAHON:

Gay Adoptee’s Memoir Becoming Patrick Describes Search for His Birth Parents

interview by MARK GABRISH CONLAN

Copyright © 2011 by Mark Gabrish Conlan for Zenger’s Newsmagazine • All rights reserved

LISTEN TO THIS INTERVIEW!



Who am I? Who are my parents? Where did I come from? When, where and how was I born? Most of us take the answers to these questions for granted. But it’s not so easy if you were adopted. Then, as Patrick McMahon née Shields found out when he got the legal records of his adoption from his adoptive mother in 1990 and decided to use them to start a search for his birth mother, he was told by a “nasally bureaucrat” at the Circuit Court of Cook County, Illinois, that “all adoption records, including original birth certificates, are impounded, it costs hundreds of dollars to try to get them, and that rarely happens, only under the most dire of circumstances.”

Finding that the authentic record of his birth was treated as if it were a state secret whose revelation would jeopardize national security was just the first of many amazing, infuriating and ultimately exhilarating things that happened to McMahon on his two-year search for his true origins. He details the story in his new self-published book Becoming Patrick, whose title references the fact that when he decided to search for his birth family he also abandoned the first name “Pat” and insisted on using the long form of his given name.

Patrick McMahon shouldn’t have had to publish his book himself. By rights he should have been able to place it with a major publisher and go on Oprah to promote it. It’s an extraordinarily well-written combination of self-discovery memoir, suspense thriller, soap opera and wrenching reunion story. As a writer, McMahon knows when to comment ironically on his tale and when to get out of its way and just let the story tell itself in clear, succinct language. A multi-media artist — he majored in music at San Francisco State University and also is a photographer and sculptor — and an openly Gay man with an unusual relationship history that also becomes part of his book, McMahon is a fascinating character whose memoir will touch the heart of anyone who’s been adopted or dealt with the sense that one or both of their parents never really wanted them.

Becoming Patrick can be ordered online from McMahon’s Web site, www.deeprootpress.com. He can be contacted via e-mail at pj@patrickmc.com

Zenger’s: When did you first realize you were adopted? It’s not quite clear from the book whether your adoptive mom actually told you, or you overheard it and then she told you. How old were you when you found out for sure, and how did you find out?

Patrick McMahon: The truth is I really don’t remember being told. I don’t ever remember not knowing I was adopted. My mother started reading me a book called The Chosen Baby, probably when I was four or five years old, and that book explained adoption in the way books did back in the 1960’s. I don’t really remember not knowing I was adopted, but I don’t remember a big “aha!” moment of being told as well.

Zenger’s: So she was reading you that book, and explaining that it applied to you.

McMahon: Right. In the book, Mr. and Mrs. Brown go to see Mrs. White, who has a baby for them; and later has another baby for them, which is how they explained my little brother when he came along. That’s the book she read to him as well, and it seemed to work.

Zenger’s: Even though your brother came from another Mrs. White.

McMahon: Yes, exactly.

Zenger’s: You say that you really only got the idea to do the search for your birth parents in your early 30’s. What triggered it?

McMahon: I grew up in a household that had some alcoholism. My adoptive father became an alcoholic, a bit of a Jekyll-and-Hyde alcoholic. There was a lot of turmoil in the house off and on. I was a quiet, shy, reserved child for the most part. My little brother got to be the acting-out clown and rebel. But, anyway, I didn’t want to cause trouble for my mother, who was sort of my protector from my father when I needed.

So if there was any question or thought about adoption, it never really came to the surface for me. I buried it, because I thought it might cause problems or get somebody upset — either get my mother upset at me, or get my parents upset at each other, one of the two. Then I got into high school and college and was pretty much living my life. My friends were probably more curious about where I came from than I was, at that time. I just professed not to have any interest in it.

Then, in my late 20’s, I really started to deal with the dysfunctional family stuff. I started going to Adult Children of Alcoholics (ACA) meetings and digging into all that dysfunctional family stuff. After doing that for a few years, I started seeing a therapist because I still wasn’t feeling quite right in the world. I was struggling with a sense of belonging, and some intimacy issues, not feeling connected, not having much direction in life.

So I ended up getting into therapy, and the therapist would bring up the adoption piece over and over. And I kept putting it down. I would put it away and say, “No, I’m not interested.” But finally, after about a year or two, she convinced me that not knowing one single thing about where I come from might have an impact in how I see the world now and how I interact with the world. So she finally convinced me that I needed to know more.

Zenger’s: How did that interact with your coming out as a Gay man? This may be the only memoir I’ve ever read by an openly Gay author that doesn’t contain the coming-out story, right?

McMahon: That’s true. I briefly mentioned going into a Gay bar for the first time at 21. That was really my coming-out time. I was dealing with being Gay a lot earlier, and I think that may have also influenced putting the adoption stuff in the background for a while, because I think when you come out as Gay first, you spend a lot of time coming to terms with that, forming your identity as a Gay person. If you’re going to move to a Gay ghetto first, then you do that. Or if you’re going to get involved in Gay rights groups, then you do that. That may be part of why I waited longer to deal with the adoption stuff.

Zenger’s: What was the actual trigger that set you off on the quest for your birth parents?

McMahon: I think it came in two stages. One was getting the adoption decree and all the documents from my adoptive mother for the first time, and holding those documents in my hand and reading the story of my adoption, and hearing the story of my adoption for the first time. I had never asked my adoptive mother for any details of what happened when I was adopted. She told me the story, and it was such an intriguing story because there were neighbors involved, and it was a private adoption [rather than through an adoption agency].

My birth parents’ names were on the decree, because it was a private adoption. That’s very unusual. Usually birth parents’ names are not in the documents that are executed by the state or by agencies. So having all that information, I don’t think I really quite doubted that I would search. But it took about a month for me to say, “Really, this is never going to be enough.” I reached a point where I thought, “I’m never going to be satisfied with just this information. I need to know a lot more.” So I decided to search.

Zenger’s: The story you tell in the book is almost like a suspense novel: this clue leading to that clue. At one point you actually compare yourself to the character of Jason Bourne, who was trying to find out his own identity.

McMahon: Exactly. I actually read all those books when they first came out. I was very familiar with Robert Ludlum and Jason Bourne and all of those hidden-identity kinds of characters. I really identified with them way back when, even though I wasn’t quite sure why. It hadn’t got settled in why I was identifying so well with all of that until I got started into this search.

Zenger’s: I think one of the most powerful aspects of the story is that you found out a lot of people in your birth family were also alcoholics, so you couldn’t watch your adoptive dad and think, “He’s not my blood. I don’t have to worry about this.”

McMahon: Yes, that was a big shocker. I found out that out in the first phone call with my birth mother. That was one of the main things I wasn’t prepared to hear. I’d done my high-school and early-20’s sort of partying, thinking that I wasn’t genetically predisposed to my adoptive father’s alcoholism. So that was a bit of a shock, and of course I re-examined my relationship to alcohol after that.

But I also found out that the sister, my biological sister whom I did not grow up with, whom I’m very much like, has not struggled with alcoholism, and neither have I. It seemed as if there are two strains of genetics, as far as alcoholism goes, in the family. One of the brothers in my birth family was in A.A. also, and I think one of my sisters has had her struggles as well. So that shattered some illusions.

Zenger’s: You mentioned relationship issues, and there are a lot of interesting tales in the book. You describe yourself as being in at least two long-distance affairs, and I was thinking, apropos the old joke of, “Why don’t you find a nice girl and settle down?” “Because I’m Gay.” “Well, in that case, why don’t you find a nice boy and settle down?” You seem to have no particular problem finding the nice boys; it’s that you have a great deal of trouble settling down!

McMahon: Settling down, exactly. It was a turbulent time of life for me. The quest for my birth family really was the emotional priority of my life. During the first part of the search I was dating a guy I had dated for a year, and during the search I really realized that he wasn’t able to go with me at all, emotionally, on this journey. Not that I expected him to be able to understand everything, but I just realized that I wasn’t feeling as close to him as I thought I should have been at that point in time.

So I did break that relationship off, and then I met somebody else who seemed to be a lot more emotionally available, and did get a lot of this stuff, but was moving to another city somewhere. At the time I was off to L.A. to meet my birth family — I moved from Kansas City to L.A. just to meet my birth family — and so I was really happy to have any kind of support going in a relationship. We kept that long-distance thing going for as long as we could, which was actually about two and one-half years. And if you want to know the rest of the story, we lost touch for about 15 years and reconnected a couple of years ago.

Zenger’s: I think one of the really powerful things about this book is that anyone who reads it who has any unresolved issues with their own family, it’s going to bring them up.

McMahon: The thing about being adopted is that until you find your birth mother and your birth family, nothing fully makes sense. Once I found my birth family and discovered all these things about my mother and my father, a lot of things fell into place that really didn’t have a way of falling into place before.

For example, my two mothers are completely different people. My adoptive mother is a very strong, stoic woman who got our family through some really tough times, but is not terribly emotional. We don’t talk about deeply emotional things. We have a good relationship, but she’s a little bit reserved in some ways. And then my birth mother is a very, very emotional, expressive kind of person, and will tell you anything that’s on her mind.

So it kind of explains how sometimes, until I’m comfortable with somebody, I can be a little reserved. But once I cross that barrier of getting comfortable with somebody, then I think I’m very open and very expressive.

Zenger’s: So what do you think finding your birth mother did for you?

McMahon: Well, finding her, meeting her and meeting all the rest of the family really totally changed my life. If anybody asked me before I actually met them why I had searched, I would have said things that a lot of people say: I was looking for my medical history, or my ethnic background, or I was looking for answers to questions like how did all this happen, why did it happen, who was involved, all that sort of thing.

But I think when I actually met them and hugged my mother, and talked to her, and sat at a kitchen table with her and talked and talked and talked, I felt this feeling of connection and belonging I had never felt before. It’s just kind of a feeling in your gut. I grew up in an adoptive family that loved me, and I loved them, but this was a new feeling. It was something that became treasured, and I think it connected me to a sense of naturalness inside.

It’s sort of like a big exhale, in a way. Part of you that’s been tense all your life can just relax. And once you do that, you start relaxing into other things. I started forming different kinds of friendships as a result, maybe a little more authentic sometimes, and going into a more authentic type of work. I’d always been into photography, done photography, but years after I met my family I started working in photography and started writing and doing things that really felt more natural to me. I also used that photography to develop greeting cards and calendars that have to do with adoption. I started going to national conferences, doing workshops and speaking on the subject.

So it really changed my life pretty dramatically. In fact, I pretty much divide my life into before June 10, 1991 and after June 10, 1991, the day that I called my mother.

Zenger’s: One thing I noticed in the book is that your adoptive mother really started feeling ­— the word that came to my mind, even though you didn’t use it, was jealous. How did that work out in your relationship with her, that you were looking for this other mother? Did she go through the thing of, “Hey, I was the one who raised you, I changed your diapers, I sent you to school, I put food on the table, and you’re going halfway across the country just to be with this other woman whose only connection with you is you popped out of her womb?”

McMahon: She never said any of those things to me, but I imagined her saying all of those things to me at one point in time or another. There were times when I was feeling very concerned about how she was handling this, and I was dealing with what seemed like a very irrational terror of my adoptive mother walking away, or disowning me, or not being able to handle this.

I would have these fantasies that that was what she would say. She never did. She was what I would call passively supportive during the search. She didn’t ask a lot of questions, but I wanted her to know what was going on. I didn’t want this to be a secret or anything like that, and when she realized it was really going to happen, then she became more interested.

Zenger’s: As I recall, that was about the same reaction she had when you came out to her as Gay: passively supportive.

McMahon: Yes, I guess so. She didn’t ask a lot of questions about my lifestyle or anything like that. We would talk a little bit, but she really wouldn’t initiate too much on any of those subjects. Over the years, though, she became more comfortable with it.

The book itself only covers about a year after I find my mother and meet all these people, but the story kept unfolding for years and years afterwards. My two mothers eventually did meet, and they were together four times over the past couple decades. They were able to say things to each other that I think they needed to say to each other. But, like I said, they’re like night and day. They’re not going to be buddies. They exchange Christmas cards, and that’s fine.

Zenger’s: You’ve talked about meeting other adoptees. Have you ever met people who said, “Well, if that’s what you needed to do, fine, but I don’t know and I don’t want to know”?
McMahon: I meet people like that all the time, of course. I would say the great majority of adoptees don’t search, and don’t seem to want to. I totally respect that. I understand it, and if anybody had asked me that question before I was 32 I would have been one of those people.
I guess what I’d say about that is it was really one of the most emotionally difficult things I’ve ever done, and to undertake that kind of a task one has to really be ready and want it badly, because it’s going to shake up your life and it’s going to occupy your life for a period of time. My own adoptive brother has not searched. He has seen me go through all of this for the last 20 years and he still doesn’t see any need to find his birth mother. So it’s a very individual, personal thing.
I will say that it’s hard for me to believe that anybody that knows absolutely nothing about where they come from doesn’t have somewhere deep inside them a need to know something, or has questions about that. But I can certainly understand somebody saying that they don’t feel the need to search, because they’re not ready or they just don’t have that need inside them.

Zenger’s: And if someone came up to you and asked the question, “Should I or shouldn’t I?,” what would you say?

McMahon: I would say, “Well, if you’re thinking about it at all, you should probably explore it. If you’re asking me this question, then it means you’re thinking about it, and I think you should look more into why you’re thinking about it, and what your needs are for connection and family.”

I will say that many adoptees I know who have searched have not found particularly happy situations, or have met with some rejection from their birth mothers or families. But I would say that about 98, 99 percent of all the people I know who have searched don’t regret it, because they gain a lot of knowledge about where they come from and often they connect with other people in their birth families, like a cousin or an aunt or an uncle, and they form relationships that are valuable to them.

Zenger’s: Yes, one of my favorite people in the book is the woman who found her birth mother and found she’s a hopeless, derelict alcoholic, but she loves her anyway.

McMahon: Yes, Safia. Yes, that’s an inspiring story, isn’t it? It was amazing. And that was the first story I heard!


Zenger’s: One thing I noticed in a way that your story is very dated. It occurs before the Internet. Do you think it’s easier now to do a birth parent search now that the Internet is available?

McMahon: Oh, it’s infinitely easier to find birth parents, because with the Internet, Facebook, all the social media, there are lots of people out there who do these types of searches, sometimes for a very small fee. Some people try to charge a very large fee, which I don’t recommend anyone paying because these days you can find people to help you for very little money.

But there’s almost a problem with that now, because sometimes people will say, “I would like to search.” They will approach a searcher, give them their information, and the searcher will locate their birth mother in two days. And sometimes people aren’t emotionally ready to proceed that soon. Sometimes they jump in a little too quickly, because it really helps to find some support group before you jump into this, and work out what it is that you’re looking for, and prepare yourself emotionally for all the different things that could happen, and talk to the people who have been through it.

So I think the quickness of the searching these days is a good thing in a lot of ways, but in other ways it doesn’t allow people enough time to prepare.

Zenger’s: One thing that struck me in the very beginning of the book, that you found that your birth record had been “impounded,” that there was this heavy veil of secrecy, that your true origins were treated like a matter of national security. I was wondering if any of the changes of the laws relating to adoptions, the availability of open adoption as an alternative, had changed that so that future adoptees won’t go through that kind of traumatic experience that you did, at a time when the law really did try to draw the line and say, as the decree in your case did, that from then on the people who were adopting you were your parents, period.

McMahon: Unfortunately the laws have not changed that much in the last 20 years. There’s been some progress made, but there are still 40 states in the United States that do not allow an adult who was adopted to access their original birth certificate. Ever. I mean, they can be 80 years old and still not be allowed to go down to the Department of Vital Records and see the actual true birth certificate of their live birth.

These laws were all passed back in the 1920’s, 1930’s, 1940’s and 1950’s by all the states, eventually — except for two. Two states never closed their records: Kansas and Alaska. But all the other states closed their records because they were supposedly protecting the legitimacy of the child. They didn’t want the child to be billed as an illegitimate child. Obviously, times have changed and we don’t really need those protections anymore. And also, because of the Internet, people can find anybody, any time they like, pretty much.

These laws don’t make much sense. However, I’ve been involved in four different legislative efforts over the last 14 years in two different states, Illinois and California, and I was just amazed at how much resistance there was.

Zenger’s: Where’s the resistance coming from?

McMahon: The resistance is coming from a variety of people. The resistance is coming from the Catholic Church. There’s Catholic Charities, which is a very large adoption organization, and they feel like they’re compromising the confidentiality they supposedly promised women who were relinquishing children. However, in all my years of this activism, I have never seen one document that promised confidentiality to a birth parent. No one has been able to produce one. They claim that it was implied.

Right-to-life groups often oppose access to original birth certificates for adult adoptees because they think it will increase abortion rates: that some woman will say, “Well, if my child can find me in 18 years, then I’d better not do this. I’d better just have an abortion instead.” That’s their reasoning. However, abortion rates in the states that do have open access are actually lower. The statistics don’t support that at all.

Resistance comes from the Mormon Church, because they have very rigid ways in which they view the adoptees that come into Mormon families. The family they came from is pretty much wiped out from their history. I guess they’re afraid that if Mormon adoptees go back and reconnect with their birth families, that will be upsetting their lineage.

Adoption attorneys sometimes oppose these efforts because they think that it will somehow reduce the amount of business for them. I hate to say it, but adoption is a big billion-dollar industry in the United States, and it’s a for-profit industry, except in Illinois, which is the only state that has outlawed for-profit adoption. So anyone who perceives that they’re going to lose income somewhere along the line is going to oppose anything they think will do that. And a lot of people think that adults who are adopted having access to their original birth certificates is somehow going to lower the number of people who are relinquishing children.

Zenger’s: You’re sitting there saying, “Oh, the Catholic Charities, the right-to-life groups, the Mormon Church,” and I’m thinking, “Oh, my God, it’s a laundry list of the Gay community’s enemies as well.”

McMahon: Yes, but strangely enough, in New Jersey they’d been trying to do this for 30 years. They’ve put bills forward for 30 years in a row, and this last year they finally got a compromise bill put through, and one of their opponents was the ACLU (American Civil Liberties Union), strangely enough, because “privacy” is a real buzzword for the ACLU, and when that came up the ACLU decided that they needed to protect the “privacy” of birth parents, even though they weren’t specifically implied and even though the statistics show that 95 percent of all birth parents are open to contact from their children. It’s not a national policy of the ACLU. It was just that particular ACLU chapter that took that position.

But seven or eight states have now passed laws which do allow adults who were adopted access to their original birth certificates, and there’s plenty of statistics now that show, gee, no earth-shattering effects have occurred. No adoptees have become stalkers, and adoption rates have not gone down. Abortion rates have not gone up.

Like I say, 95 to 98 percent of birth parents who express a preference are open to contact, so ultimately I think it’s a business thing that is a lot of the resistance. And a lot of fear among adoptive parents, and among adoptive-parent organizations, that somehow if their children reconnect with their biological families, they’re going to lose their children. I think that also is an unfounded fear. In all of my years of meeting adoptees, I don’t think I’ve met one adoptee who has rejected their adoptive family in favor of their birth family without any provocation from their adoptive family.

Just because they’ve reconnected with their birth families, they don’t leave their adoptive families. It’s an unwarranted fear. I get pretty worked up about this issue, as you can tell. I have been out there protesting, and I’ve organized marches, so yes, I feel pretty strongly about it.

Zenger’s: You’re active so that future generations of adopted children shouldn’t have to work as hard as you did.

McMahon: Yes, absolutely. And you brought up open adoption. The great majority of adoptions these days do have some degree of openness or knowledge between the families. So, effectively, this is all going to go away in a generation or two anyway. But there are still six million adoptees in the United States, and many of us want to know, want to have the same legal access to the true information of our births as everybody else does.

And in a way, it’s like being treated like a second-class citizen. The government still thinks of us as children, that we can’t handle having our records, or we can’t work out these relationships that might result with our birth families in a way that the state doesn’t need to be involved.

Immigrants Are Undocumented, Not “Illegal”



The following resolution, principally authored by Zenger’s associate editor Leo E. Laurence, was unanimously approved by the Committee on Diversity of the Society of Professional Journalists (SPJ) August 18 and will be presented to the SPJ at its national convention in New Orleans September 25-27.

WHEREAS: Mainstream journalists are increasingly using the phrase “illegal immigrant” and/or the more offensive, “illegal alien,” in describing undocumented immigrants, and particularly Latinos.

WHEREAS: A fundamental legal principle embedded in our U.S. Constitution is that everyone (including non-citizens) is considered innocent of any crime until proven guilty in a court of law.

WHEREAS: This constitutional doctrine, often described as innocent-until-proven-guilty, is part of the laws of most of the industrialized nations. The U.S. Constitution applies to everyone in America, not just citizens.

WHEREAS: Simply put, only a judge can decide when a person is an “illegal,” and not a journalist.

WHEREAS: Unfortunately, the Associated Press (AP) Stylebook on-line says that “illegal immigrant” is preferred over “undocumented worker,” though that book is always evolving and may change. “Undocumented immigrant” is preferred.

WHEREAS: The National Association of Hispanic Journalists is also concerned with the increasing use of pejorative terms to describe the estimated 11 million undocumented people living in the United States.

BE IT RESOLVED that the 2011 national convention of the Society of Professional Journalists (1) urges working journalists to avoid using either phrase: “illegal immigrant” or “illegal alien” when writing their copy, and (2) urges an edit of the AP Stylebook to be consistent with this resolution.

Edward II: Diversionary Brings Marlowe’s Play to Life

 
by MARK GABRISH CONLAN

Copyright © 2011 by Mark Gabrish Conlan for Zenger’s Newsmagazine • All rights reserved

It was probably only a matter of time before Diversionary Theatre, San Diego’s quarter-century old company specializing in Queer-themed plays, produced what is possibly the first “Gay play” in the modern sense of the term, Christopher Marlowe’s Edward II. Marlowe, born in Canterbury, England in 1564 — just two months before William Shakespeare’s birth in Stratford-on-Avon — died at age 29 in Deptford, ostensibly in a tavern brawl with four drinking buddies, one of whom was tried and acquitted on the ground of self-defense.

The story was almost certainly a cover-up. At the time of his death Marlowe was under indictment for homosexuality and atheism, both of which were capital crimes in Elizabethan England, and one of his boyfriends was Thomas Walsingham, son of the first cousin of Sir Francis Walsingham, who headed the intelligence service that was essentially Queen Elizabeth’s CIA. Thomas Kyd, a mediocre playwright whose works drew bigger audiences than either Marlowe’s or Shakespeare’s (so what else is new?), had himself been arrested for atheism and, being interrogated under torture, fingered Marlowe. Hugh Ross Williamson, in his 1972 historical novel Kind Kit, suggested that Sir Francis Walsingham had four of his agents kill Marlowe and fake it to look like a brawl in order to keep the case from coming to trial and embarrassing him and his Queen.

All of which is offered here merely to point out that in writing Edward II — the story of a more or less openly Gay 14th Century King of England who neglected his wife, Isabella (daughter of King Philip IV of France), for his boyfriend Piers Gaveston, then took up with another young man, Hugh Despenser the Younger (called simply “Young Spenser” in the play), antagonizing many of the noblemen as well as the Church and ultimately sparking a brutal civil war, his murder and his son’s accession to the throne — Marlowe was writing what he knew. Reflecting his intellectual training — he was a graduate of Cambridge University — Marlowe’s plays, like Shaw’s and Brecht’s, tended to be more social and political lessons rather than character studies, and his writing usually lacked the humanity and depth of Shakespeare’s. Not Edward II, though; in what was either the last or next-to-last (scholars differ) of his seven surviving plays, Marlowe created richly drawn, complex characters in a poetic language whose beauty and scope rivals Shakespeare’s.

Edward II begins in 1307, when the title character becomes king on the death of his father, Edward I, during a war against Scotland. (Edward II took over the war and led the English army to a major defeat at Bannockburn in 1314; the war isn’t depicted in Marlowe’s play but is dramatized from a pro-Scottish point of view in Mel Gibson’s film Braveheart.) He immediately sends for his partner Gaveston, whom Edward I had banished to his native Gascony (a French province the English were essentially renting from them), scandalizing the nobles with their open affair and the wild parties they threw at court.

The play is a rapid-fire series of scenes alternating between Edward and the nobles — particularly Mortimer, their leader (Marlowe wrote two characters named Mortimer, the younger being the older’s nephew, but Diversionary’s director Richard Baird, also credited with adapting the play, fused them into one) — as they get him to exile Gaveston again, Gaveston sneaks away, the nobles catch him and one of them murders him, Edward starts a civil war which he wins and orders all his enemies executed, but Mortimer escapes. Later he and Edward’s rejected Queen Isabella flee to France and raise an army to take over; the plot succeeds, and Edward is forced to abdicate in favor of his son Edward III, a teenager Mortimer and Isabella think they can easily control.

Edward is ultimately murdered — Marlowe’s script doesn’t say exactly how, but Baird’s staging seizes on hints in the script and depicts Edward being killed with a red-hot poker thrust up his anus (a legend that took hold because medieval moralists thought that was a fitting punishment for a Gay king) — but the new king, Edward III, denounces his mother and Mortimer for the murders of his father and his uncle Edmund. Though the script doesn’t specify what happens next, Marlowe’s original audience would have known it: Edward III became one of England’s greatest kings, reigned for 50 years and with his son, Edward the Black Prince, came close to conquering France.

One thing that may surprise modern viewers about Edward II is that it makes clear just how little power medieval monarchs actually had. The day of royals who were absolute dictators — like “Sun King” Louis XIV of France, who proclaimed, “L’etat c’est moi!” (“I am the state!”) — was at least three centuries in the future when Edward reigned. Medieval kings were hamstrung by their dependence on the feudal nobility — whom they relied on for both taxes and military forces — and on the church, which had the power to condemn an entire country as sinners and thereby encourage attacks from outside by telling the attackers they were doing God’s work. The conflicts between king and nobles, and between king and church — “Why must a king be subject to a priest?” Edward rages in one of the most famous lines in the play (and one of striking relevance today!) — are vividly staged in Marlowe’s script, Baird’s adaptation and Diversionary’s production.

Diversionary’s Edward II vividly brings Marlowe’s play to life, and the real heroes are Richard Baird and Ross Hellwig, who stars as the king (and is the only Actors’ Equity member in the cast). Baird’s fast-moving adaptation keeps the story going, pushes the actors to spit the lines out so fast they sound like their normal mode of speech, and sometimes brings on one set of characters while another is still on stage to avoid the pauses between scenes that make many productions of Elizabethan drama dull. Though there are times early on in which Hellwig acts so effeminate you wonder whether he’s playing England’s king or queen, he soon settles into an authoritative reading of the role that makes the character believable and turns the play into a tour de force for him.

Not that this is a one-star drama; the program lists 29 characters and they are played by 15 actors, the largest cast Diversionary has ever assembled for anything. The play opens with a vivid entrance by Dangerfield Moore as Gaveston, oozing dangerous sexuality (he’s the only male who’s allowed to show a basket, a neat touch by costume designer Howard Schmitt) and leaving us no doubt why Edward is in such thrall to this man that he’s willing to give up virtually everything for him. The conspirators are led by John Polak as Roger Mortimer, who may or may not have been Queen Isabella’s adulterous lover (in Marlowe’s script, as adapted by Baird, he wants to be but she rejects him), and they include Warwick (Jeff Anthony Miller, who’s also credited with “fight choreography”), Leicester and Pembroke (both played by Reed Willard). Mortimer, as played by Polak, is a properly oily S.O.B. and the others deliver finely honed performances, reflecting the subtle differences between them in terms of how far they’re willing to go against a legitimate king.

Alexandra Grossi as Isabella appears a bit too edgy in her early speeches — methinks her laments at having lost the king’s love to a man (“For now my lord the king regards me not/But dotes upon the love of Gaveston”) should be played more in sorrow than in anger — but perhaps she and Baird chose this way to make it more credible when she re-emerges as a driven revenge figure in the second half. Towards the end, some of the doublings in the cast do start to strain credibility. Jim “Doc” Coates gets to play three older men — the Archbishop of Canterbury, the father of Spenser (Edward’s last male lover) and Lightborn, the hired assassin brought in to kill Edward — and he’s good in all his roles but it’s a little hard to take as this distinctive actor first opposes Edward, then is on his side and finally does him in. And Miller’s doubled role as Matrevis, one of Mortimer’s executioners, seems just a little too much like Boris Karloff’s Mord in Tower of London (Universal’s 1939 film of the Richard III story) for comfort.

Still, Diversionary’s Edward II is for the most part impeccably acted and grippingly staged. The Elizabethan theatre wasn’t big on scenery — Diversionary’s scenic designer, Matt Scott, wisely avoided elaborate sets and staged the action in front of large, dowdy-looking hanging curtains whose period looked more or less right — but its actors wore elaborate costumes and there were surprisingly convincing special effects. Baird and “fight choreographer” Miller don’t go as far as they would have in Marlowe’s time, in which the actors frequently wore bladders filled with pig’s blood so they would bleed on cue when stabbed, but the murders are not only utterly credible but also surprisingly gory for live theatre.

Howard Schmitt’s costume designs create a quite convincing picture of the Middle Ages, and — praise be — the costumes themselves look worn enough to be believable as real clothing worn by people in everyday life. (One slip-up is Edward’s crown, a plastic souvenir-shop knickknack that’s totally illusion-shattering.) As prop designer, David Medina mainly seemed to have to come up with credible weapons — the swords are metal and make a satisfying clank when the actors fence with each other — and the wash basin in which Edward and Gaveston dunk the head of one of those unwelcome priests also looks right. Kevin Anthenill provided original music as well as doing the sound design, and for once it was nice to hear an Elizabethan drama scored with instruments other than trumpets and drums.

It’s nice to see Diversionary Theatre celebrating its 25th anniversary with a pioneering work of Queer theatre like Edward II. Their production is certainly superior to Derek Jarman’s self-indulgent film from 1991 — of which Diversionary is doing a special screening Tuesday, September 20, 7:30 p.m. — done largely in modern dress, which inexplicably turned Edward II into a Queer Nation activist leading a ragtag flock against a line of riot police. (imdb.com lists two other films of Edward II, both made for TV, and the 1970 BBC version — with a young Ian McKellen as Edward — would probably be worth seeing.) For Richard Baird’s direction, vivid and well-acted performances in the leads, and an overall approach that takes Marlowe’s drama out of the academy and turns it into visceral, exciting entertainment, Diversionary’s Edward II is not to be missed.

Edward II is playing through Sunday, October 2 at Diversionary Theatre, 4545 Park Boulevard in University Heights. Performances are 7:30 Thursdays, 8 p.m. Fridays and Saturdays, 2 and 7 p.m. Sundays. For tickets and other information, call (619) 220-0097 or visit www.diversionary.org

FilmOut’s 13th Annual Festival Fizzles


Poor Movie Choices, Cold Theatre Drive Down Attendance

by LEO E. LAURENCE, J.D.

Copyright © 2011 by Leo E. Laurence for Zenger’s Newsmagazine • All rights reserved

PHOTO: Kaleb James, taken by Leo E. Laurence (file photo)    

FilmOut San Diego, the six-day 13th annual, 2011 Gay film festival fizzled in August with attendance dropping by about 50 percent as compared with last year, according to Festival Director Kaleb James.

Running two full weekends, August 16-18 and August 23-35, the festival screened 59 movies at the elegant Birch North Park Theatre.

While films at the annual Latino Film Festival in the spring are usually in Spanish with English subtitles, most of the movies at FilmOut did not have Gay themes.

Many were older classics which may have appealed to the largely older audiences attending FilmOut.

To counter the seriously declining audiences, James said in an interview with Zenger’s that his board will probably change from an event in August to a springtime schedule.

The weather is so warm and nice that people may be going to the beach instead of our festival, James believed.

However, while tourists may be hitting the beaches, those who attend the Gay film festival are generally locals who work and live here, and do not spend their time at the beach.

Also, to schedule the film festival in the spring will bring it into direct conflict with the Latino Film Festival. While the two events do work closely together, moving the Gay event to the spring will mean both festivals will be in direct competition for scarce corporate sponsorship money and promotional media coverage.

As one movie patron suggested, however, the answer may be in a much more simple fact: the theatre was often freezing cold inside.

One moviegoer who had seen another movie earlier, and knew that theatre was extremely cold, even brought a heavy blanket with her to keep warm.

Several patrons simply left the theatre halfway into their movies because they were seriously uncomfortable with the cold.

Once when the temperature was really chilly, one person reported this to the staff.  About an hour later, when the temperature could have been adjusted, the theatre actually got colder.

While the festival organizers were hoping that many of their regular patrons would return to see other movies, with it so cold inside, that appeared more unlikely.

Low-Budget Productions

After the screening of several of the movies, the producers, directors and sometimes actors of the production would appear on stage for question-and-answer sessions.

While some of the questions from the audience were boring mini-speeches, these sessions gave the producers an opportunity to praise their movie. But sometimes they revealed information perhaps too candidly.

Some admitted their films were very low-budget operations. Unfortunately, that showed up in grossly inadequately lighting and only one-camera shooting. One producer said his entire film was conceived and shot solely in his one-bedroom apartment, where there was no room for several pods of lights.

Many of the movies, in FilmOut were independently produced, and even some of the low-budget films were more interesting that the violent, gun-toting stuff coming out of Hollywood.

Indeed, one movie from France and Iran was Circumstance, which was a provocative, coming-of-age story that cracked open the hidden, underground world of the Iranian youth culture. Even the film’s credits, as well as much of the dialogue, were in Arabic with subtitles, adding to the international charm of the movie.

Some of the films were painful to watch. Fresh from the Sundance Film Festival, Gun Hill Road was the story of a middle-aged, very macho, Latino father who returned home to the Bronx in New York City after three years in prison to discover his teenage son was Gay. He hated it!

Sparks flew and the kid moved out to avoid the violence of his homophobic father.  In the end, as his dad was picked up again by police, they seemed to reconcile. It brought tears to my eyes.

To produce the film festival and move the hundreds of people in the audience in and out of the theater for the change in screenings, there was an army of nearly 200 loyal volunteers.

“Thrill-O-Rama”

Perhaps to get people ready for scary Hallowe’en on Oct. 31, FilmOut will produce “Thrill-O-Rama” on Saturday, Oct. 8 from noon to midnight at the Birch North Park Theatre.

Scary movies like The Fog, Dressed to Kill and Suspiria will be screened. Tickets for all six movies are $20, or $5 for single shows, according to James.

More information is available at www.filmoutsandiego.com