Standing my gay ground.

I am not moving to Canada. Believe me, I thought about it. One of my best friends in Vancouver is a celebrated 7-foot drag queen named Joan-E. I could've have easily taken up residence in one of her shoes, but now is not the time for cowardice. I'm needed here to gay up the red states. To get the ball rolling, I'm going to drive through the heartland in a Subaru wearing a pink tutu and eating a bratwurst while ray loudspeakers blare "And I Am Telling You I'm Not Going."

The bad news is, Bush is still president. The good news is, I'm still gay. In four years Bush will be gone. I, however, will still be a great big homo. Want to feel empowered? Try thinking of the most powerful man on the planet as a temporary inconvenience. I am not disheartened by the election results because, to a gay man, this kind of bigotry is old news. I don't scare easily.

Let's face it, we've been through far worse. When I was in the eighth grade San Francisco supervisor Harvey Milk, one of the nation's first openly gay elected officials, was assassinated by Dan White. This was an act of terrorism designed to intimidate us into permanent silence. All it did was inspire countless LGBT individuals to pursue public office on behalf of our cause. Milk's murder inaugurated what has become our nationwide presence in politics. This past election, at least 41 openly gay and lesbian candidates in 20 states were elected to public office, and not just in the latte-drinking, sushi-eating states.

In Texas, Lupe Valdez was elected as Dallas's first Latina lesbian sheriff. In Idaho, Nicole LeFavour was elected to the state house of representatives, the first out lesbian elected official in the state's history. In Colorado, state senate incumbent Jennifer Veiga was reelected with 100% of the vote. I don't know about you, but I always feel a little more secure when there's a lesbian in the house.

In the '80s the bigotry of the right wing left a body count. All of us suffered the loss of loved ones while the Reagan administration's policies seemed intent on eradicating us. What was our response? The San Francisco AIDS Foundation, Gay Men's Health Crisis, Shanti, ACT UP, Broadway Cares/ Equity Fights AIDS, AIDS Project Los Angeles--countless social service and relief organizations that have revolutionized health care.

Think of all we accomplished while we were grief-stricken. In the face of death and fearmongering our community has responded with compassion, decisiveness, and action. Whenever pundits being up the subject of values, the preservation of families, remember how gloriously we have all fought to take care of our own.

Recently I attended the Los Angeles Gay and Lesbian Center's 33rd anniversary dinner to accept the Rand Schrader Distinguished Achievement Award. I was being honored for being out, but I felt my biggest achievement was having my Filipino Catholic father in attendance. My father--a man once so homophobic he couldn't drive past a gay person in San Francisco without muttering under his breath "bakla," the Tagalog pejorative fag.

My father's homophobia died with my mother. Lying comatose after a severe stroke, she was gently and respectfully attended by one fabulously gay nurse after another. They maintained her comfort as if she were a queen, whispering to her unconscious body, "I'm here, Mrs. Mapa, and I'm attaching your feeding tube." "Good morning, Mrs. Mapa, your children and husband are here to see you." Shamed by his own prejudices, lily father wept in the hospital cafeteria, "I love you, son. There isn't one thing I'd change about you."

Adversity breeds success. Now is the time for our excellence. Whatever legislation passes over the next four years, it will have no bearing on whom we love. That's something that, despite their best efforts, neither church nor state will ever be able to control. Whatever challenges lie ahead, we will meet them with our signature strength, dignity, and divine creativity. So don't move to Canada or anywhere else. Be queer. Stay here.