Tonight I finally made it to a meeting of the Queer Justice League. Prior to this evening, the name of the organization was Queer Justice League*, the * referencing the fact that the name was "not yet official". In the last ten minutes of a two-hour meeting (no breaks, mind you) the group brought up a vote on the name. There was about a 20-second discussion that merely made reference to the fact that some people hated the name (due to the use of the word "queer"), and then a vote was taken. The name was approved with no opposition and only one abstention. Suddenly, in the closing moments, they were cooking with gas.
When the vote passed and I saw what could only be described as "sheer joy" overtake the delightful face of Alex Kent (who I believe from what little I could gather, had been involved since the beginning of the early planning stages of QJL). The group was excited, something had shifted, and I was happy for them. And then it hit me, "for them."
As the meeting closed, I looked around the room at the faces -- young, eager, old, beleaguered, pierced, wrinkled, and one of a stunning curly headed, bearded boy angel, successfully channeling the best of 70's-gay-porn chic. I realized that if I were to return, it would most likely be to stare at this boy again. I had participated in the meeting and had a genuine sense that what I was saying was being heard, sort of.
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