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?
Inimesed hakkavad üksteist kastidesse lahterdama samal hetkel, kui nad üksteist näevad - kas see inimene on ohtlik? On ta veetlev? On ta mu potentsiaalne kaaslane? Peitub temas võimalus kontakte luua? Me teostame inimestega kohtudes selle väikese ristküsitluse, et koostada neist mõtteline isikukirjeldus. Mis su nimi on? Kust sa pärit oled? Kui vana sa oled? Millega sa tegeled? Siis läheme veelgi isiklikumaks. Kas sa oled kunagi põdenud mingeid haigusi? Kas sa oled kunagi lahutanud? Kas su hingeõhk haiseb, kui sa mu küsimustele vastad? Mis sulle meeldib? Kes sulle meeldib? Mis soost inimestega sulle meeldib magada?
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.
Ma saan aru. Meid on neuroloogiliselt programmeeritud otsima endasarnaseid inimesi. Me hakkame klikke looma niipea, kui oleme küllalt vanad, et teada, mis tunne on olla aktsepteeritud. Meid seovad ühte kõikvõimalikud asjad - muusikalised eelistused, rass, sugu, kvartal, kus me üles kasvasime. Me otsime keskkondi, mis toetavad meie isiklikke valikuid. Aga vahel võib küsimus "millega sa tegeled?" mõjuda, nagu keegi avaks väikese karbikese ja nõuaks, et sa end sinna sisse pressiksid. Olen aru saanud, et kategooriad on liiga kitsendavad. Kastid on liiga kitsad. Ja see võib muutuda väga ohtlikuks.
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.
Aga kõigepealt üks eitus minu kohta, enne kui me liiga sügavale tungime. Ma kasvasin üles väga turvalises keskkonnas. Ma kasvasin Manhattanil, kesklinnas, 1980ndate alguses, kahe kvartali kaugusel punkmuusika epitsentrist. Ma olin kaitstud väiklaste eelarvamuste piinade ja usul põhineva kasvatuse sotsiaalsete piirangute eest. Meie kandis oli nii, et kui sa polnud transvestiit, radikaalne mõtleja või mingit sorti etenduskunstnik, peeti sind veidrikuks. (Naer.) See ei olnud traditsiooniline kasvatus, aga lapsena New Yorgi tänavatel õpid sa usaldama oma vaistu, õpid oma peaga mõtlema.
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.
Kui ma olin kuueaastane, otsustasin, et tahan olla poiss. Läksin ühel päeval kooli ja lapsed ei võtnud mind endaga korvpalli mängima. Nad ütlesid, et tüdrukud ei tohi mängida. Ma läksin koju, ajasin oma pea paljaks, läksin järgmisel päeval tagasi ja ütlesin: "Ma olen poiss." Tähendab, kes teab, eks? Kui sa oled kuueaastane, siis võib-olla läheb see läbi. Ma ei tahtnud, et keegi teaks, et ma olen tüdruk, ja nad ei teadnudki. Ma jätkasin seda teesklust kaheksa aastat.
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.
Siin olen mina 11-aastasena. Ma mängisin poissi nimega Walter filmis nimega "Julian Po". Ma olin väike tänavapoiss, kes jälitas Christian Slaterit ja tüütas teda. Vaadake, ma olin ka lapsnäitleja, mis lisas veel ühe kihi minu lavastatud identiteedile, sest mitte keegi ei teadnud, et ma olin tüdruk, kes mängib poissi. Tegelikult ei teadnud mu elus mitte keegi, et ma olen tüdruk - ei õpetajad koolis, ei sõbrad, ei lavastajad, kellega ma töötasin. Lapsed tulid sageli klassis minu juurde ja haarasid mul kõrist, et kontrollida, kas mul on aadamaõun, või haarasid mind kubemest, et kontrollida, mis värk on. Kui ma tualetti läksin, keerasin oma kingad kabiinis teistpidi, et paistaks, nagu ma pissiksin seistes. Pidžaamapidudel haarasid mind paanikahood, kui ma pidin tüdrukutele selgeks tegema, et neil oleks targem mind mitte suudelda, samas püüdes end mitte reeta.
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.
Aga tuleks mainida, et ma ei vihanud oma keha ega suguelundeid. Ma ei tundnud, nagu ma oleksin vales kehas. Ma tundsin, et ma esinen keerukas lavastuses. Ma ei oleks soovahetajana läbi läinud. Kui mu perekond oleks uskunud teraapiasse, oleksid nad ilmselt diagnoosinud mul midagi düsmorfse kehatajuhäire sarnast ja määranud mulle hormoonravi, et puberteeti edasi lükata. Aga minuga juhtus nii, et ma lihtsalt ärkasin ühel päeval, kui olin 14, ja otsustasin, et ma tahan jälle tüdruk olla. Puberteet oli käes ja mul polnud aimugi, mida tähendab tüdruk olla ja ma olin valmis teada saama, kes ma tegelikult olen.
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.
Kui laps käitub nagu mina, siis ta ei peagi kapist välja tulema, eks? Keegi pole ju tegelikult šokeeritud. (Naer.) Mu vanemad ei palunud mul end määratleda. Kui ma olin 15 ja helistasin oma isale, et öelda talle, et ma olin armunud, ei tulnud meile kummalegi pähe arutada, mis on selle tagajärjed, et mu esimene armastus oli tüdruk. Kolm aastat hiljem, kui ma armusin mehesse, ei pilgutanud kumbki mu vanematest silmagi. See oli üks mu väga tavatu lapsepõlve suuri hüvesid, et mind ei palutud kunagi end määratleda kellegi konkreetsena. Mul lasti lihtsalt olla mina ise, kasvada ja muutuda iga hetkega.
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.
Neli, või peaaegu viis aastat tagasi tekitas 8. seaduseelnõu, suur debatt võrdse abieluõiguse üle siin riigis palju kõmu. Toona ei olnud abiellumine õieti asi, millele ma oleksin kuigi palju mõelnud. Aga mind rabas fakt, et Ameerikas, riigis, kus kodanikuõigusi on nii sageli jalge alla tallatud, võidaks oma vigu nii jultunult korrata. Mäletan, et vaatasin telekast arutelu ja mõtlesin, kui huvitav see on, et kiriku ja riigi lahutamine oli esmajoones geograafiliste piiride tõmbamine läbi kogu maa, nende kohtade vahele, kus inimesed sellesse uskusid ja nende kohtade, kus nad ei uskunud. Ja et see arutelu tõmbas geograafilisi piire ka minu ümber.
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.
Kui see oli sõda kahe kardinaalselt erineva poole vahel, siis mina langesin enesestmõistetavalt geide meeskonda, sest ma ei olnud 100% hetero. Tol ajal hakkasin ma just väljuma kaheksa-aastasest isikliku identiteedikriisi siksakist, mille kestel ma muutusin poisist kohmetuks tüdrukuks, kes nägi välja nagu tüdrukuks riietatud poiss, liikusin sealt omakorda teise äärmusse, saades ülisaledaks liiga agaraks, poisse taga ajavaks beibelikuks tüdrukuks, kuni lõpuks jõudsin kõhkleva avastuseni, kes ma tegelikult olen, poisilik tüdruk, kellele meeldivad nii poisid kui ka tüdrukud, sõltuvalt inimesest.
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.
Ma veetsin terve aasta, pildistades seda uut tüdrukute põlvkonda, kes on minu sarnased, kes jäävad justkui ridade vahele - tüdrukuid, kes sõidavad rulaga, aga teevad seda pitspesus, tüdrukuid, kellel on poisilik soeng, aga tütarlapselik küünelakk, tüdrukuid, kelle lauvärv on nende kriimustatud põlvedega sama tooni, tüdrukuid, kellele meeldivad tüdrukud ja poisid, kellele meeldivad poisid ja tüdrukud, kes kõik vihkasid, et neid kuhugi kasti püüti suruda. Ma armastasin neid inimesi ja imetlesin nende vabadust, aga ma nägin, kuidas maailm väljaspool meie utoopia mulli sukeldus raevukatesse debattidesse, kus arvamusliidrid hakkasid riigitelevisioonis meie armastust zoofiliaga võrldema. Ja mulle jõudis võimsa lainena kohale arusaamine, et ma kuulun omaenda kodumaal vähemusse seoses ühe tahuga oma loomusest. Ma olin seaduse silmis vaieldamatult teise järgu kodanik.
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?
Ma ei olnud aktivist. Ma ei tavatse elus lippudega lehvitada. Aga mind painas see küsimus: kuidas võib keegi hääletada, et võtta ära õigused suurelt osalt inimestest, keda ma tunnen, seoses ühe osakesega nende loomusest? Kuidas on võimalik öelda, et meie kui inimgrupp ei vääri võrdseid õigusi kõigi teistega? Kas me üldse olime grupp? Milline grupp? Ja kas need inimesed on kunagi teadlikult kohtunud mõne oma diskrimineerimise ohvriga? Kas nad teavad, kelle vastu nad hääletavad ja mis on selle tagajärg?
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.
Siis tuli mulle pähe, et võib-olla, kui nad saaksid silma vaadata inimestele, keda nad liigitavad teise järgu kodanikeks, oleks neil raskem seda teha. Võib-olla see paneks nad mõtlema. Loomulikult ei saanud ma kutsuda 20 miljonit inimest õhtusöögile, niisiis mõtlesin välja viisi, kuidas neid üksteisele fotode teel tutvustada, ilma mingite nõksudeta, ilma valgustuseta, ilma igasuguse minupoolse manipulatsioonita. Sest fotol saad sa uurida lõvi vurre ilma kartmata, et ta rebib sul pea otsast.
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.
Minu jaoks ei tähenda fotograafia mitte ainult filmi ilmutamist, see tähendab ilmutust vaatajale, tema viimist uude kohta, kus ta varem pole olnud, aga ennekõike tema tutvustamist inimestega, keda ta võib karta. Ajakiri "Life" tutvustas mitmetele põlvkondadele läbi fotode kaugeid ja tundmatuid tsivilisatsioone. Otsustasin teha seeria väga lihtsaid portreesid, ütleme, passipilte. Laias laastus otsustasin pildistada igaühte siin riigis, kes ei ole 100% hetero, mis, kui te ei tea, on piiramatu hulk inimesi.
(Laughter)
(Naer.)
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.
See oli väga suur ettevõtmine ja me vajasime selleks abi. Jooksin kibekülma ilmaga ringi ja pildistasin igaühte, keda teadsin ja kes oli mulle kättesaadav, veebruaris, umbes kaks aastat tagasi. Tegin fotod, läksin Inimõiguste nõukogusse ja palusin neilt abi. Nad rahastasid kahenädalast fotosessiooni New Yorgis. Ja siis me tegime selle.
(Music)
(Muusika.)
Video: I'm iO Tillett Wright, and I'm an artist born and raised in New York City. (Music)
Video: Mina olen iO Tillett Wright, New Yorgis sündinud ja kasvanud kunstnik. (Muusika.)
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)
"Enesestmõistetavad tõed" on fotojäädvustus LGBT kogukonnast Ameerikas. Mu eesmärk on teha lihtne portree ükskõik kellest, kes pole 100% hetero või tunneb, et ta kuulub mingil viisil LGBT spektrisse. Minu eesmärk on näidata inimlikkust, mis on meis kõigis, läbi sellise lihtsa asja nagu nägu. (Muusika.)
"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.
"Me peame iseenesestmõistetavaks, et kõik inimesed on loodud võrdseteks." Nii on kirjutatud Iseseisvusdeklaratsiooni. Meil ei ole õnnestunud hoida moraalseid väärtusi, millele meie riik rajati. USAs ei ole võrdsust.
["What does equality mean to you?"] ["Marriage"] ["Freedom"] ["Civil rights"] ["Treat every person as you'd treat yourself"]
["Mida võrdsus teie jaoks tähendab?"] ["Abielu"] ["Vabadus"] ["Kodanikuõigused"] ["Kohtle iga inimest nagu kohtleksid iseennast"]
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.
See toimib, kui sa ei pea sellele mõtlema, nii lihtne see ongi. Võitlus võrdsete õiguste eest ei puuduta ainult samasooliste abielu. Täna võidakse 29 osariigis, ehk rohkem kui pooltes, sind seaduslikult vallandada sinu seksuaalsuse pärast.
["Who is responsible for equality?"]
["Kes vastutab võrdsuse eest?"]
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)
Ma olen kuulnud sadu inimesi andmas sama vastust: "Me kõik vastutame võrdsuse eest." Siiani oleme pildistanud 300 nägu New Yorgis. Me poleks saanud seda teha ilma Inimõiguste nõukogu helde toetuseta. Ma tahan laiendada seda projekti üle kogu maa. Tahan külastada 25 USA linna ja pildistada 4000 või 5000 inimest. See on minu panus võitlusse minu põlvkonna kodanikuõiguste eest. Esitan teile väljakutse vaadata neile inimestele näkku ja öelda neile, et nad väärivad vähem kui iga teine inimene. (Muusika.)
["Self evident truths"] ["4,000 faces across America"]
["Enesestmõistetavad tõed"] ["4000 nägu üle kogu Ameerika"]
(Music) (Applause)
(Muusika.) (Aplaus.)
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.
iO Tillett Wright: Me ei oleks iial osanud arvata, mis järgmiseks juhtub. Peaaegu 85 000 inimest vaatas seda videot ja me hakkasime saama e-kirju kõikjalt üle kogu maa, kus meil paluti tulla nende linna ja aidata neil oma nägusid näidata. Palju rohkem inimesi, kui ma oleksin oodanud, tahtis näidata oma nägu. Ma suurendasin oma lähemat eesmärki 10 000 näoni. See video valmis 2011. aasta kevadel ja tänaseks olen käinud peaaegu 20 linnas ja pildistanud peaaegu 2000 inimest.
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.
Ma tean, et see on kõne, aga ma sooviksin minutit vaikust ja et te lihtsalt vaataksite neid nägusid, sest mul ei ole neile mitte midagi lisada. Sest kui pilt on väärt tuhandet sõna, siis näopilt vajab tervet sõnaraamatut.
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.
Pärast ringisõitmist ja inimestega rääkimist kohtades nagu Oklahoma või Texase väikelinnad, leidsime tõendust, et meie eeldus läks täppi. Nähtavuses on tõesti võti. Tuttavlikkus avab ukse empaatiale. Kui mingi küsimus kerkib esile su oma hoovi peal või perekonnas, on palju tõenäolisem, et sa vaatled seda kaastundlikult või lähened sellele uuest vaatepunktist. Loomulikult kohtasin ma oma reisidel inimesi, kes ütlesid ametlikult lahti oma lastest, kuna nad ei olnud heterod, aga ma kohtasin ka inimesi, kes olid lõunaosariikide baptistid ja kes vahetasid kirikut, sest nende tütar oli lesbi. Empaatia tekitamine oli muutunud "Enesestmõistetavate tõdede" selgrooks.
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.
Aga ma hakkasin mõistma midagi väga huvitavat: "Enesestmõistetavad tõed" ei kustuta meie vahelt erinevusi. Tegelikult on vastupidi, see tõstab need esile. See ei kujuta mitte ainult keerukusi, mida võib leida erinevate inimeste reastamisest, vaid ka keerukusi, mis asuvad igaühes isiklikult. Meil ei olnud mitte liiga palju kaste, vaid liiga vähe.
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?
Mingil hetkel mõistsin, et minu missioon pildistada "geisid" oli põhimõtteliselt vale, sest gei olemisel on miljon erinevat varjundit. Ma püüdsin inimesi aidata, aga olin põlistanud selle, mida püüdsin kogu elu vältida - järjekordse kasti. Ühel hetkel lisasin osavõtuankeedile küsimuse, kus palusin inimestel arvuliselt määratleda, kui palju neis on geid, skaalal ühest sajani. Ja nägin, kuidas paljude inimeste eksistentsiaalne kriis minu ees lahti rullus. (Naer.) Inimesed ei teadnud, mida teha, sest neile ei olnud kunagi sellist valikuvarianti esitatud. Kas te suudate arvuliselt määratleda, kui avatud te olete?
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."
Kuid kui nad šokist üle said, pakkus enamik mingit arvu, mis jääb 70% ja 95% vahele või siis 3% ja 20% vahele. Muidugi oli ka palju neid, kes kinnitasid, et nad on 100% üks või teine, aga ma avastasin, et palju suurem hulk inimesi määratles end palju nüansirikkamalt. Sain teada, et enamik kuulub spektri osasse, mida olen hakanud nimetama "halliks".
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.
Ütlen siiski otsesõnu - ja see on väga tähtis - et ma ei väida mingil juhul, nagu eelistusi ei oleks olemas. Ja ma ei hakka üldse käsitlema teemat valik versus bioloogiline sund, sest kui keegi teist juhuslikult usub, et seksuaalne orientatsioon sõltub valikust, siis ma kutsun teid üles proovima olla hall. Ma teen teist tänu proovimisele pilti. (Naer.) Kuid ma väidan, et inimesed ei ole ühemõõtmelised. Kõige olulisem sõnum selles protsentide süsteemis on see: kui siin on geid ja siin on heterod ja kui me tunnistame, et enamik inimestest määratleb end kuuluvana kas ühte või teise äärmusesse, siis on suur hulk inimesi, kes kuuluvad sinna vahepeale.
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?
Ja see muudab olukorra keeruliseks. Sest kui te võtate vastu seaduse, mis lubab ülemusel vallandada oma alluv homoseksuaalse käitumise eest, siis kuhu te õieti piiri tõmbate? Kas siia, kus inimestel on olnud siiani üks või kaks heteroseksuaalset kogemust? Või siia, kus inimestel on olnud siiani ainult üks või kaks homoseksuaalset kogemust? Kust täpselt algab teise järgu kodanikuks olemine?
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.
Veel üks huvitav asi, mida ma oma projekti ja reiside ajal teada sain, on see, kui vilets sideaine on seksuaalne orientatsioon. Olles nii palju reisinud ja nii paljude inimestega kohtunud, uskuge mind, jobusid ja imetoredaid inimesi, täpselt nagu demokraate ja vabariiklasi või spordiässasid ja drag queene või ükskõik, milliseid vastandeid te ka välja ei mõtleks, on LGBT kogukonnas sama palju, nagu inimkonnas üldiselt. Kui arvata välja fakt, et meie mängime, üks käsi seaduse poolt selja taha seotud, ja unustada ära eelarvamuste ja võitluste levinud narratiiv, ei tähenda see, et me ei ole heterod, tingimata seda, et meil oleks midagi ühist.
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.
"Enesestmõistetavatest tõdedest" on saanud lõputu nägude vohamine ja loodetavasti ilmuvad need üha enamatele platvormidele, bussipeatustesse, reklaamtahvlitele, Facebooki lehekülgedele, puhkerežiimil kuvaritele ning seda inimkonna protsessiooni jälgides võib ehk hakata juhtuma midagi huvitavat ja kasulikku. Loodetavasti need kategooriad, vastandamised, need üle-lihtsustatud kastid muutuvad kasutuks ja langevad ära. Sest nad ei kirjelda mitte kuidagi seda, mida me näeme, keda me tunneme, ega kes me oleme. Me näeme inimesi kogu nende mitmekesisuses. Ja nende nägemine muudab raskemaks eitada nende inimlikkust. Vähemalt ma loodan, et see muudab raskemaks keelata neile inimõigusi.
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.
Kas see olen konkreetselt mina, kellele te otsustaksite keelata õigust kodule, õigust adopteerida lapsi, õigust abielluda, vabadust siin poodelda, elada, osta? Kas mina olen see, kellest te olete otsustanud lahti öelda kui oma lapsest, vennast, õest, emast või isast, naabrist, nõbust, onust, presidendist, naispolitseinikust või tuletõrjujast? Selleks on liiga hilja. Sest ma olen juba kõike seda. Me juba oleme kõike seda ja me oleme alati olnud. Palun ärge võtke meid võõrastena, võtke meid oma kaasinimestena ja punkt.
Thank you.
Aitäh.
(Applause)
(Aplaus.)