Granny Doc’s excellent diary and many of the incredible comments therein got me thinking this morning – this is not so much intended as a response to that diary, but as a corollary. Specifically, my own comments in the thread struck me, upon rereading it later, as something of a traditionalist statement; I very much value, based on that example, the idea of families gathering around the dinner table most evenings, discussing world events or daily difficulties or random, personal thoughts on life, the universe, and what kinds of new shoes they want next time. I’m also procrastinating a bit as I write this, as I’m due at a potluck this evening, and so am about to roll up my sleeves and get to cooking – I plan to make some hearty chowder and back some nice, dense and earthy loaves of bread this afternoon to go share with both friends and strangers this evening at a community function in a small library.

There's been a whole heap of meta -- conversation about the blog itself and the conversation on the blog -- flying around this place, and it's been getting a lot of response, as it always has. Many participate in the meta, many consider it worthwhile debate, others consider it a waste of time, still others believe that it's usually much ado about nothing. While I think all of these are valid points of view, I decided this morning that I should write a little bit about meta itself, which,  I suppose, makes this diary a little bit meta-meta. My basic premise is that meta, far from being a bad thing in itself, is a necessary part of getting a large community of people together; there's just no escaping the need for hashing out how we relate to each other.

"But spit, I'm so tired of meta!"

I don't blame you. And if you can't be bothered right now, hell, just skip this diary and have a nice day, come back to comment if you feel like, go do something you find more productive. I have no problem with being ignored; as one of the wordier posters in this community, I'm honestly kind of used to it.

So, I want to start this by saying that I'm absolutely thrilled that we managed to bring down Pombo in CA-11. I really can't say enough how much I despise the man; I grew up in the delta, and I can tell you wholeheartedly that the district is too good to be represented by Pombo. I have high hopes for Jerry McNerney.

I also want to say that even though we didn't pull it out, I'm extremely pleased with our results from CA-04, where Charlie Brown gave Doolittle a run for his money (on a very literal level, at that). It's a tough district, and the very hard work that was done there can only portend good things for the future; we came close, folks, in a district certainly not known for its liberalism.

But I have to reflect more negatively on some statewide results, and I can only come to the conclusion that the California Democratic Party needs some serious work. Please continue with me...

Here I'm going to attempt to tackle what is, really, way too large a topic to be covered in any single diary, so I ask you all to please forgive both any omissions and the likely obscene length of what I am about to write here.

I've been thinking a whole lot lately about identity: about how and why we choose to attach certain labels to ourselves, how much we really have a choice in the matter, and what role our identities and the communities that come with them play in our activism, social awareness, and politics, particularly in the GLBT community (as it's the one I know the most about) and pertaining to gender issues (as I think about them constantly).

To talk about this, I'm going to very, very briefly descend into my personal interpretations of many of the feminisms and stages of the GLBT movements of the past. I also want to bring in some examples on why it is that some of us question the validity of the categories that our politics have come to rely on.

I just wanted to take a moment on this Martin Luther King, Jr. day to remember the life and work of Bayard Rustin, an oft-forgotten civil rights activist who worked closely alongside King, and someone with whom I wish we were all more familiar.

As a Black activist, one-time communist and long-time labor organizer, believer in non-violence, and an open gay man, I think we all have a lot to learn from his writings and the history of his life, and it disturbs me that his life has been so successfully forgotten by the public at large. Rustin is surely a perfect example of the connections between all of our struggles, and the need for inclusion and understanding across many different lines.

Here is a brief biography of Rustin written by his partner, Walter Naegle. Here is a different source.