Mennesker begynder at sætte hinanden i kasser lige så snart de ser hinanden -- Er den person farlig? Er de attraktive? Er de en potentiel mage? Er de en potentiel networking mulighed? Vi laver dette lille forhør når vi møder mennesker for at lave et mentalt resume over dem. Hvad er dit navn? Hvor kommer du fra? Hvor gammel er du? Hvad laver du? Så bliver vi mere personlige med det. Har du nogensinde haft nogen sygdomme? Er du nogensinde blevet skilt? Lugter din ånde dårligt mens du svarer på mit forhør lige nu? Hvad kan du lide? Hvem kan du lide? Hvilket køn går du i seng med?
Human beings start putting each other into boxes the second that they see each other -- Is that person dangerous? Are they attractive? Are they a potential mate? Are they a potential networking opportunity? We do this little interrogation when we meet people to make a mental resume for them. What's your name? Where are you from? How old are you? What do you do? Then we get more personal with it. Have you ever had any diseases? Have you ever been divorced? Does your breath smell bad while you're answering my interrogation right now? What are you into? Who are you into? What gender do you like to sleep with?
Jeg forstår det. Vi er neurologisk sammensat til at finde mennesker lige som os selv. Vi begynder at forme klikker lige så snart vi er gamle nok til at vide hvordan accept føles. Vi knytter os sammen baseret på hvad som helst -- musik præference, køn, stedet vi voksede op. Vi søger miljøer der forstærker vores personlige valg. Nogle gange dog, bare spørgsmålet "hvad laver du?" kan føles som om nogen åbner en lille bitte kasse og beder en om at klemme sig ned i den. Fordi kategorierne, har jeg fundet ud af, er for begrænsende. Kasserne er for små. Og dette kan blive virkelig farligt.
I get it. We are neurologically hardwired to seek out people like ourselves. We start forming cliques as soon as we're old enough to know what acceptance feels like. We bond together based on anything that we can -- music preference, race, gender, the block that we grew up on. We seek out environments that reinforce our personal choices. Sometimes, though, just the question "what do you do?" can feel like somebody's opening a tiny little box and asking you to squeeze yourself inside of it. Because the categories, I've found, are too limiting. The boxes are too narrow. And this can get really dangerous.
Så her er et dementi om mig, dog, inden vi kan gå dybere ned i dette. Jeg voksede op i et meget beskyttet miljø. Jeg voksede op i downtown Manhattan i starten af 1980'erne, to gader fra punk musikkens epicenter. Jeg blev afskærmet for smerten ved snæversynethed og de sociale restriktioner af en religiøs baseret opdragelse. Hvor jeg kommer fra, hvis man ikke var drag queen eller radikal tænker eller en performance kunstner af en eller anden art, var man en særling. (Latter) Det var en uortodoks opvækst, men som et barn på gaderne i New York, lærer man at stole på sine instinkter, man lærer hvordan man skal følge sine egne ideer.
So here's a disclaimer about me, though, before we get too deep into this. I grew up in a very sheltered environment. I was raised in downtown Manhattan in the early 1980s, two blocks from the epicenter of punk music. I was shielded from the pains of bigotry and the social restrictions of a religiously-based upbringing. Where I come from, if you weren't a drag queen or a radical thinker or a performance artist of some kind, you were the weirdo. (Laughter) It was an unorthodox upbringing, but as a kid on the streets of New York, you learn how to trust your own instincts, you learn how to go with your own ideas.
Så da jeg var seks, besluttede jeg at jeg ville være en dreng. Jeg gik i skole en dag og børnene ville ikke lade mig spille basketball med dem. De sagde at de ikke ville lade pigerne spille. Så jeg tog hjem, og jeg barberede mit hoved, og jeg kom tilbage dagen efter og sagde, "Jeg er en dreng." Jeg mener, hvem ved, ikke? Når man er seks, kan man måske gøre det. Jeg ville ikke have at nogen vidste jeg var en pige, og det gjorde de ikke. Jeg holdte facaden i otte år.
So when I was six, I decided that I wanted to be a boy. I went to school one day and the kids wouldn't let me play basketball with them. They said they wouldn't let girls play. So I went home, and I shaved my head, and I came back the next day and I said, "I'm a boy." I mean, who knows, right? When you're six, maybe you can do that. I didn't want anyone to know that I was a girl, and they didn't. I kept up the charade for eight years.
Sådan så jeg ud da jeg var 11. Jeg spillede en dreng der hedder Walter i en film der hedder "Julian Po." Jeg var en lille skrap fyr der fulgte Christian Slater rundt og plagede ham konstant. Så, jeg var også en barneskuespiller, hvilket fordoblede lagene af opførelsen af min identitet, fordi ingen vidste at jeg faktisk var en pige der spillede en dreng. Faktisk, vidste ingen i mit liv at jeg var en pige -- ikke mine lærere på skolen, ikke mine venner, ikke de instruktører jeg arbejdede med. Børnene ville tit komme op til mig i klassen og tage fat i min hals for at se efter et adamsæble, eller tage fat i mit skridt for at se hvad jeg arbejdede med. Når jeg gik på toilettet, ville jeg vende mine sko i båsen, så det lignede at jeg stod op og tissede. Når jeg sov hos andre, ville jeg få panikanfald over at prøve at fortælle pigerne at de ikke skulle kysse mig uden at røbe mig selv.
So this is me when I was 11. I was playing a kid named Walter in a movie called "Julian Po." I was a little street tough that followed Christian Slater around and badgered him. See, I was also a child actor, which doubled up the layers of the performance of my identity, because no one knew that I was actually a girl really playing a boy. In fact, no one in my life knew that I was a girl -- not my teachers at school, not my friends, not the directors that I worked with. Kids would often come up to me in class and grab me by the throat to check for an Adam's apple or grab my crotch to check what I was working with. When I would go to the bathroom, I would turn my shoes around in the stalls so that it looked like I was peeing standing up. At sleepovers I would have panic attacks trying to break it to girls that they didn't want to kiss me without outing myself.
Det er dog værd at nævne at jeg ikke hadede min krop eller mine kønsorganer. Jeg havde det ikke som om jeg var i den forkerte krop. Jeg havde det som om jeg opførte denne komplicerede optræden. Jeg ville ikke have kvalificeret mig som transkønnet. Hvis min familie, dog, havde været den slags der tror på terapi, ville de nok have diagnosticeret mig som noget lignende køns dysmorfisk og sætte mig på hormoner for at udsætte puberteten. Men i mit særlige tilfælde, vågnede jeg bare en dag da jeg var 14, og jeg besluttede mig for at jeg ville være en pige igen. Puberteten havde ramt mig, og jeg havde ingen anelse om hvad det betød at være en pige, og jeg var klar til at finde ud af hvem jeg egentlig var.
It's worth mentioning though that I didn't hate my body or my genitalia. I didn't feel like I was in the wrong body. I felt like I was performing this elaborate act. I wouldn't have qualified as transgender. If my family, though, had been the kind of people to believe in therapy, they probably would have diagnosed me as something like gender dysmorphic and put me on hormones to stave off puberty. But in my particular case, I just woke up one day when I was 14, and I decided that I wanted to be a girl again. Puberty had hit, and I had no idea what being a girl meant, and I was ready to figure out who I actually was.
Når et barn opfører sig på den måde, behøver de ikke helt at komme ud, vel? Det er ikke fordi nogen er chokerede. (Latter) Men jeg blev ikke bedt om at definere mig selv af mine forældre. Da jeg var 15, og jeg ringede til min far for at fortælle ham at jeg var blevet forelsket, var det det sidste i nogen af vores tanker at diskutere hvad konsekvenserne var af det faktum, at min første kærlighed var en pige. Tre år senere, da jeg blev forelsket i en mand, mine forældre blinkede heller ikke med øjnene. Så, det er en af de store velsignelser af min meget uortodokse opdragelse at jeg aldrig blev bedt om at definere mig selv som en bestemt ting på noget tidspunkt. Jeg fik bare lov til at være mig, og voksede og ændrede mig hvert øjeblik.
When a kid behaves like I did, they don't exactly have to come out, right? No one is exactly shocked. (Laughter) But I wasn't asked to define myself by my parents. When I was 15, and I called my father to tell him that I had fallen in love, it was the last thing on either of our minds to discuss what the consequences were of the fact that my first love was a girl. Three years later, when I fell in love with a man, neither of my parents batted an eyelash either. See, it's one of the great blessings of my very unorthodox childhood that I wasn't ever asked to define myself as any one thing at any point. I was just allowed to be me, growing and changing in every moment.
Så for fire, næsten fem år siden, Proposition 8, den store ægteskabs-lighedsdebat, skabte en masse uro rundt om i landet. Og på det tidspunkt, var det at blive gift ikke rigtig noget som jeg havde brugt meget tid på at tænke over. Men jeg blev ramt af det faktum at USA, et land med så blakket en borgerrettighedshistorie, kunne gentage sine fejl så åbenlyst. Og jeg kan huske at jeg så diskussionen på tv og tænkte hvor interessant det var at adskillelsen af kirke og stat dybest set tegne geografiske grænser gennem dette land, mellem steder hvor mennesker troede på det og steder hvor mennesker ikke gjorde. Og så, at denne diskussion optegnede geografiske grænser rundt om mig.
So four, almost five years ago, Proposition 8, the great marriage equality debate, was raising a lot of dust around this country. And at the time, getting married wasn't really something I spent a lot of time thinking about. But I was struck by the fact that America, a country with such a tarnished civil rights record, could be repeating its mistakes so blatantly. And I remember watching the discussion on television and thinking how interesting it was that the separation of church and state was essentially drawing geographical boundaries throughout this country, between places where people believed in it and places where people didn't. And then, that this discussion was drawing geographical boundaries around me.
Hvis dette var en krig med to sider, var jeg i mangel af bedre, på det homoseksuelle hold, fordi jeg var bestemt ikke 100 procent hetero. På det tidspunkt begyndte jeg lige at komme ud af denne otte årige personlige identitetskrise zigzag der tog mig fra at være en dreng til at være denne akavede pige der lignede en dreng i pigetøj til den modsatte ekstreme af denne super karrige, overkompenserende, drengejagende pigede pige for til slut at have en tøvende udforskning af hvad jeg faktisk var, en drengepige der både kunne lide drenge og piger, afhængig af personen.
If this was a war with two disparate sides, I, by default, fell on team gay, because I certainly wasn't 100 percent straight. At the time I was just beginning to emerge from this eight-year personal identity crisis zigzag that saw me go from being a boy to being this awkward girl that looked like a boy in girl's clothes to the opposite extreme of this super skimpy, over-compensating, boy-chasing girly-girl to finally just a hesitant exploration of what I actually was, a tomboyish girl who liked both boys and girls depending on the person.
Jeg brugte et år på at fotografere denne nye generation af piger, ligesom mig selv, der på en måde faldt mellem linjerne -- piger der stod på skateboard men gjorde det i blondeundertøj, piger der havde drengefrisurer men havde piget neglelak på, piger der havde mascara der matchede skrabede knæ, piger der kunne lide piger og drenge alle kunne lide drenge og piger der alle hadede at blive sat i enhver form for kasse. Jeg elskede disse mennesker, og jeg beundrede deres frihed, men jeg så på mens verden udenfor vores utopiske boble eksploderede i disse voldsomme debatter hvor de pingerne begyndte at sammenligne vores kærlighed med sodomi på landsdækkende tv. Og denne kraftige opmærksomhed rullede ind over mig at jeg var en minoritet, og i mit eget hjemland, baseret på en facet af min karakter. Jeg var lovligt og utvetydigt en andenrangsborger.
I had spent a year photographing this new generation of girls, much like myself, who fell kind of between-the-lines -- girls who skateboarded but did it in lacy underwear, girls who had boys' haircuts but wore girly nail polish, girls who had eyeshadow to match their scraped knees, girls who liked girls and boys who all liked boys and girls who all hated being boxed in to anything. I loved these people, and I admired their freedom, but I watched as the world outside of our utopian bubble exploded into these raging debates where pundits started likening our love to bestiality on national television. And this powerful awareness rolled in over me that I was a minority, and in my own home country, based on one facet of my character. I was legally and indisputably a second-class citizen.
Jeg var ikke en aktivist. Jeg flager ikke med nogen flag i mit eget liv. Men jeg var plaget af dette spørgsmål: Hvordan kunne nogen stemme for at fjerne rettighederne af dens store mængde mennesker som jeg kendte baseret på et element af deres karakter? Hvordan kunne de sige at vi som en gruppe ikke fortjente lige rettigheder ligesom alle andre? Var vi overhovedet en gruppe? Hvilken gruppe? Og havde disse mennesker overhovedet bevidst mødt et offer for deres diskrimination? Vidste de hvem de stemte imod og hvad virkningen var?
I was not an activist. I wave no flags in my own life. But I was plagued by this question: How could anyone vote to strip the rights of the vast variety of people that I knew based on one element of their character? How could they say that we as a group were not deserving of equal rights as somebody else? Were we even a group? What group? And had these people ever even consciously met a victim of their discrimination? Did they know who they were voting against and what the impact was?
Og så gik det op for mig, måske hvis de kunne kigge ind i øjnene på de mennesker som de fordømte i andenrangs borgerskab ville det måske gøre det sværere for dem at gøre det. Det ville måske få dem til at tænke over det. Jeg kunne selvfølgelig ikke få 20 millioner mennesker til det samme middagsselskab, så jeg fandt på en måde hvor jeg kunne introducere dem for hinanden fotografisk uden nogen kunstighed, uden nogen belysning, eller uden nogen manipulation af nogen form fra min side. Fordi i et fotografi kan man undersøge en løves knurhår uden at være bange for at han flænser ens ansigt.
And then it occurred to me, perhaps if they could look into the eyes of the people that they were casting into second-class citizenship it might make it harder for them to do. It might give them pause. Obviously I couldn't get 20 million people to the same dinner party, so I figured out a way where I could introduce them to each other photographically without any artifice, without any lighting, or without any manipulation of any kind on my part. Because in a photograph you can examine a lion's whiskers without the fear of him ripping your face off.
For mig, er fotografi ikke kun om at udvikle film, det handler om at udsætte seeren for noget nyt, et sted som de ikke har været før, men vigtigst af alt, for mennesker de måske er bange for. Magasinet Life introducerede generationer af mennesker til fjerne, fremmede kulturer de aldrig vidste eksisterede gennem billeder. Så jeg besluttede mig for at lave en serie af meget simple portrætter, forbryderbilleder, om man vil. Og jeg besluttede dybest set at fotografere enhver i dette land der ikke var 100 procent hetero, hvilket, hvis I ikke er klar over det, er et uendeligt antal mennesker.
For me, photography is not just about exposing film, it's about exposing the viewer to something new, a place they haven't gone before, but most importantly, to people that they might be afraid of. Life magazine introduced generations of people to distant, far-off cultures they never knew existed through pictures. So I decided to make a series of very simple portraits, mugshots if you will. And I basically decided to photograph anyone in this country that was not 100 percent straight, which, if you don't know, is a limitless number of people.
(Latter)
(Laughter)
Så dette var en meget stort forehavende, og for at gøre det havde vi brug for hjælp. Så jeg løb ud i den bidende kulde, og jeg fotograferede hver eneste person som jeg vidste at jeg kunne komme til i februar for cirka to år siden. Og jeg tog disse billeder, og jeg tog til HRC og jeg bad dem om noget hjælp. Og de financierede to ugers billeder i New York. Og vi lavede denne.
So this was a very large undertaking, and to do it we needed some help. So I ran out in the freezing cold, and I photographed every single person that I knew that I could get to in February of about two years ago. And I took those photographs, and I went to the HRC and I asked them for some help. And they funded two weeks of shooting in New York. And then we made this.
(Musik)
(Music)
Video: Jeg er iO Tillet Wright, og jeg er en artist der er født og opvokset i New York City. (Musik)
Video: I'm iO Tillett Wright, and I'm an artist born and raised in New York City. (Music)
Self Evident Truth er en fotografisk journal over LGBTQ Amerika i dag. Mit mål er at tage simple portrætter af enhver der er andet end 100 procent hetero eller føler at de falder indenfor LGBTQ spektrummet på nogen måder. Mit mål er at vise det til menneskeheden der eksisterer i os alle gennem simpelheden i et ansigt. (Musik)
Self Evident Truths is a photographic record of LGBTQ America today. My aim is to take a simple portrait of anyone who's anything other than 100 percent straight or feels like they fall in the LGBTQ spectrum in any way. My goal is to show the humanity that exists in every one of us through the simplicity of a face. (Music)
"Vi anser disse sandheder for selvindlysende, at alle mennesker er skabt lige." Det står skrevet i uafhængighedserklæringen. Vi fejler som nation med at opretholde de moralske principper som vi er grundlagt på. Der er ikke nogen lighed i USA.
"We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal." It's written in the Declaration of Independence. We are failing as a nation to uphold the morals upon which we were founded. There is no equality in the United States.
["Hvad betyder lighed for dig?] ["Ægteskab"] ["Frihed"] ["Civile rettigheder"] ["Behandl hver eneste person som man ville behandle sig selv"]
["What does equality mean to you?"] ["Marriage"] ["Freedom"] ["Civil rights"] ["Treat every person as you'd treat yourself"]
Det er når man ikke behøver at tænke over det, så simpelt er det. Kampen for lige rettigheder er handler ikke kun om homoægteskaber. I dag i 29 stater, mere end halvdelen af landet, kan man blive fyret lovligt udelukkende på grund af ens seksualitet.
It's when you don't have to think about it, simple as that. The fight for equal rights is not just about gay marriage. Today in 29 states, more than half of this country, you can legally be fired just for your sexuality.
["Hvem er ansvarlig for lighed?"]
["Who is responsible for equality?"]
Jeg har hørt hundredevis af mennesker give det samme svar: "Vi er alle ansvarlige for lighed." Indtil videre har vi fanget 300 ansigter i New York City. Og det ville vi ikke have været i stand til at gøre uden den gavmilde støtte af Human Rights Campaign. Jeg vil tage projektet med tværs hen over landet. Jeg vil besøge 25 amerikanske byer, og jeg vil fange 4.000 eller 5.000 mennesker. Dette er mit bidrag til min generations civilrettighedskamp. Jeg udfordrer jeg til at se på ansigterne af disse mennesker og fortælle dem at de fortjener mindre end noget andet menneske. (Musik)
I've heard hundreds of people give the same answer: "We are all responsible for equality." So far we've shot 300 faces in New York City. And we wouldn't have been able to do any of it without the generous support of the Human Rights Campaign. I want to take the project across the country. I want to visit 25 American cities, and I want to shoot 4,000 or 5,000 people. This is my contribution to the civil rights fight of my generation. I challenge you to look into the faces of these people and tell them that they deserve less than any other human being. (Music)
["Selvindlysende sandheder"] ["4.000 ansigter i hele USA"]
["Self evident truths"] ["4,000 faces across America"]
(Musik) (Bifald)
(Music) (Applause)
iO Tillett Wright: Der er absolut ikke noget der kunne have forberedt os på hvad der skete efter det. Næsten 85.000 mennesker så den video, og så begyndte de at emaile os fra hele landet, og bad os om at komme til deres by og hjælpe dem med at vise deres ansigter. Og mange flere mennesker ville vise deres ansigter end jeg havde troet. Så jeg ændrede mit mål til 10.000 ansigter. Den video blev lavet i foråret 2011, og til i dag har jeg rejst til næsten 20 byer og fotograferet næsten 2.000 mennesker.
iO Tillett Wright: Absolutely nothing could have prepared us for what happened after that. Almost 85,000 people watched that video, and then they started emailing us from all over the country, asking us to come to their towns and help them to show their faces. And a lot more people wanted to show their faces than I had anticipated. So I changed my immediate goal to 10,000 faces. That video was made in the spring of 2011, and as of today I have traveled to almost 20 cities and photographed almost 2,000 people.
Jeg ved at dette er et foredrag, men jeg vil gerne have et minut bare med stilhed og have jer til at kigge på disse ansigter fordi der er ikke noget jeg kan sige der vil tilføje noget til dem. Fordi hvis et billede siger mere end tusinde ord, så har et billede af et ansigt brug for et helt nyt ordforråd.
I know that this is a talk, but I'd like to have a minute of just quiet and have you just look at these faces because there is nothing that I can say that will add to them. Because if a picture is worth a thousand words, then a picture of a face needs a whole new vocabulary.
Så efter at have rejst og talt med mennesker i steder som Oklahoma eller den lille by Texas, fandt vi beviser for at den første antagelse var helt rigtig. Synlighed er virkelig afgørende. Fortrolighed er virkelig passage midlet til empati. Når et emne først dukker frem i ens egen baghave eller i ens egen familie, er der meget større sandsynlighed for at man udvikler sympati for det eller udvikler et nyt perspektiv på det. Selvfølgelig, i mine rejser mødte jeg mennesker der skilte sig lovligt fra deres børn for at være andet end hetero, men jeg mødte også mennesker der var Southern Baptists der skiftede kirke fordi deres barn var lesbisk. Strålende empati blev rygraden i Self Evident Truths.
So after traveling and talking to people in places like Oklahoma or small-town Texas, we found evidence that the initial premise was dead on. Visibility really is key. Familiarity really is the gateway drug to empathy. Once an issue pops up in your own backyard or amongst your own family, you're far more likely to explore sympathy for it or explore a new perspective on it. Of course, in my travels I met people who legally divorced their children for being other than straight, but I also met people who were Southern Baptists who switched churches because their child was a lesbian. Sparking empathy had become the backbone of Self Evident Truths.
Men her er hvad jeg begyndte at lære der er virkelig interessant: Indlysende sandheder fjerner ikke forskellene mellem os. Faktisk, tværtimod, fremhæver det dem. Det præsenterer, ikke kun kompleksiteterne der er i en procession af forskellige mennesker, men de kompleksiteter der findes i hver eneste individ. Det var ikke at vi havde for mange kasser, det var det at vi havde for få.
But here's what I was starting to learn that was really interesting: Self Evident Truths doesn't erase the differences between us. In fact, on the contrary, it highlights them. It presents, not just the complexities found in a procession of different human beings, but the complexities found within each individual person. It wasn't that we had too many boxes, it was that we had too few.
På et tidspunkt blev jeg klar over at min mission at fotografere "homoer" var gennemgående fejlramt, fordi der var en million forskellige afskygninger af homo. Her prøvede jeg at hjælpe, og jeg havde foreviget den ting som jeg havde brugt hele mit liv på at prøve at undgå -- endnu en kasse. På et tidspunkt tilføjede jeg et spørgsmål til aftaleblanketten der bad mennesker om at kvantificere sig selv på en skala fra et til 100 procent homoseksuel. Og jeg så rigtig mange eksistentielle kriser udfolde sig foran mig. (Latter) Mennesker vidste ikke hvad de skulle gøre fordi de var aldrig blevet præsenteret for en mulighed før. Kan man kvantificere ens åbenhed?
At some point I realized that my mission to photograph "gays" was inherently flawed, because there were a million different shades of gay. Here I was trying to help, and I had perpetuated the very thing I had spent my life trying to avoid -- yet another box. At some point I added a question to the release form that asked people to quantify themselves on a scale of one to 100 percent gay. And I watched so many existential crises unfold in front of me. (Laughter) People didn't know what to do because they had never been presented with the option before. Can you quantify your openness?
Når de kommer sig over chokket, dog, valgte mennesker i det store og hele at stemme mellem 70 til 95 procent eller 3 og 20 procent mærkerne. Selvfølgelig, der var masser af mennesker der valgte 100 procent det ene eller det andet, men jeg opdagede at en meget større del af menneskene identificerede sig som noget der var meget mere nuanceret. Jeg opdagede at de fleste mennesker falder i et spektrum som jeg henviser til som "Grey." ["Gråt"]
Once they got over the shock, though, by and large people opted for somewhere between 70 to 95 percent or the 3 to 20 percent marks. Of course, there were lots of people who opted for a 100 percent one or the other, but I found that a much larger proportion of people identified as something that was much more nuanced. I found that most people fall on a spectrum of what I have come to refer to as "Grey."
Lad mig dog være tydelig -- og dette er meget vigtigt -- jeg siger på ingen måde, at præference ikke eksisterer. Og jeg vil ikke engang adressere emnet om valg kontra biologisk nødvendighed, fordi hvis nogen af jer skulle være af den tro at seksuel orientering er at valg, inviterer jeg jer til at gå ud og prøve at være grå. Jeg vil tage jeres billede bare fordi I prøver. (Latter) Det jeg dog prøver at sige er, at mennesker er ikke en-dimensionelle. Det vigtigste at lære fra procent systemet er dette: Hvis man har homoseksuelle mennesker herover og man har heteroseksuelle mennesker herovre, og mens vi anerkender at de fleste mennesker identificerer sig som værende tættere på en pol eller en anden, så er der et stort spektrum af mennesker der eksisterer i mellem.
Let me be clear though -- and this is very important -- in no way am I saying that preference doesn't exist. And I am not even going to address the issue of choice versus biological imperative, because if any of you happen to be of the belief that sexual orientation is a choice, I invite you to go out and try to be grey. I'll take your picture just for trying. (Laughter) What I am saying though is that human beings are not one-dimensional. The most important thing to take from the percentage system is this: If you have gay people over here and you have straight people over here, and while we recognize that most people identify as somewhere closer to one binary or another, there is this vast spectrum of people that exist in between.
Og den virkelighed som dette repræsenterer, er en kompliceret en. Fordi, for eksempel, hvis man vedtager en lov der tillader chefer at fyre en medarbejder for homoseksuel adfærd, hvor trækker man præcist grænsen? Er det herovre, ved de mennesker der har haft en eller to heteroseksuelle erfaringer indtil videre? Eller er det herovre ved de mennesker der kun har haft en eller to homoseksuelle erfaringer indtil videre? Hvor præcist bliver man en andenrangsborger?
And the reality that this presents is a complicated one. Because, for example, if you pass a law that allows a boss to fire an employee for homosexual behavior, where exactly do you draw the line? Is it over here, by the people who have had one or two heterosexual experiences so far? Or is it over here by the people who have only had one or two homosexual experiences thus far? Where exactly does one become a second-class citizen?
En anden interessant ting som jeg lærte fra mit projekt og mine rejser er hvor dårlig et bindemiddel seksuel orientering egentlig er. Efter at have rejst så meget og mødt så mange mennesker, lad mig fortælle jer, der er lige så mange fjolser og skatter og demokrater og republikanere og sportsidioter og dronninger og enhver anden polarisering som man overhovedet kan tænke på indenfor LGBT samfundet som der er indenfor den menneskelige race. Bortset fra faktummet at vi leger med den ene lovfæstede hånd bundet bag ryggen, og når man kommer forbi den delte fortælling om fordomme og kamp, bare at være andet end hetero betyder ikke nødvendigvis at vi har noget som helst til fælles.
Another interesting thing that I learned from my project and my travels is just what a poor binding agent sexual orientation is. After traveling so much and meeting so many people, let me tell you, there are just as many jerks and sweethearts and Democrats and Republicans and jocks and queens and every other polarization you can possibly think of within the LGBT community as there are within the human race. Aside from the fact that we play with one legal hand tied behind our backs, and once you get past the shared narrative of prejudice and struggle, just being other than straight doesn't necessarily mean that we have anything in common.
Så i den endeløse udbredelse af ansigter som Self Evident Truths altid bliver til, i takt med at det forhåbentligt dukker op på flere og flere platforme, busskure, reklametavler, Facebook sider, pauseskærme, måske ved at se denne procession af menneskelighed, vil der begynde at ske noget interessant og brugbart. Forhåbentligt vil disse kategorier, disse poler, disse over-simplificerede kasser begynde at blive ubrugelige og de vil begynde at falde væk. Fordi i virkeligheden beskriver de ikke noget vi ser og ingen som vi kender og ikke noget vi er. Det vi ser er mennesker i al deres mangfoldighed. Og at se dem gør det sværere at benægte deres menneskelighed. Jeg håber det som minimum vil gøre det sværere at benægte deres menneskerettigheder.
So in the endless proliferation of faces that Self Evident Truths is always becoming, as it hopefully appears across more and more platforms, bus shelters, billboards, Facebook pages, screen savers, perhaps in watching this procession of humanity, something interesting and useful will begin to happen. Hopefully these categories, these binaries, these over-simplified boxes will begin to become useless and they'll begin to fall away. Because really, they describe nothing that we see and no one that we know and nothing that we are. What we see are human beings in all their multiplicity. And seeing them makes it harder to deny their humanity. At the very least I hope it makes it harder to deny their human rights.
Så er det specielt mig som man ville vælge at nægte rettigheder til bolig, retten til at adoptere børn, retten til ægteskab, friheden til at shoppe her, leve her, købe her? Er jeg den som man vælger at slå hånden af som ens barn eller ens bror eller ens søster eller ens mor eller ens far, ens nabo, ens kusine, ens onkel, præsidenten, ens politikvinde eller brandmanden? Det er for sent. Fordi jeg er allerede alle de ting. Vi er allerede alle de ting, og det har vi altid været. Så modtag os venligst ikke som fremmede, modtag os som jeres medmennesker, punktum.
So is it me particularly that you would choose to deny the right to housing, the right to adopt children, the right to marriage, the freedom to shop here, live here, buy here? Am I the one that you choose to disown as your child or your brother or your sister or your mother or your father, your neighbor, your cousin, your uncle, the president, your police woman or the fireman? It's too late. Because I already am all of those things. We already are all of those things, and we always have been. So please don't greet us as strangers, greet us as your fellow human beings, period.
Tak.
Thank you.
(Bifald)
(Applause)