Notre Dame est Tombée

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I don’t know what to say. Who am I to say anything? But writing is how I try to make some sense of my thoughts and feelings. So here I am.

Notre Dame is the grandest cathedral ever built. It is a monument to the greatest achievements of civilization, and has been for 850 years. It is a testament to the millennia of art and architecture that came before it, and the inspiration for countless works of art in all the centuries that have followed. It is beautiful. It is sacred.

And now it is gone.

When I first heard the cathedral was on fire, I thought to myself, “It will be fine. The damage will be harsh, but contained. Notre Dame Cathedral has survived for nearly a millennium – it won’t fall today.”

But it did fall. It will continue to fall. And experts fear that “nothing will remain.” Because to the Universe, to God if he exists, a thousand years is but a blink of an eye.

Today I feel small. The world seems small. The greatest achievements of civilization seem small.

For even the purest, grandest, colossal beauty was never built to last.

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This Democratic Cleanse of “Impure” Candidates Will Ensure Trump’s Re-election

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Okay everyone, let’s keep this cleanse going!! Let’s get rid of the fiercely powerful senator and former prosecutor who was mean to her staff. Let’s get rid of the man who inspired millions of Millennials to show up to vote for the first time and who has been calling out wealth inequality longer than anyone, but who didn’t personally know that a subordinate on his team was acting sexist. Let’s get rid of the brave and passionate senator who has brought countless greedy corporate thieves to their knees, but who claimed minority status for herself a couple times which, though proven not to be completely baseless, was still inappropriate. And above all, let’s get rid of the greatest bridge-builder in American politics, who commands not only respect but love on both sides of the aisle, but who also touched women (and men) on the shoulder, and may have even kissed someone on the back of their head – after all, we have a white supremacist child predator human rights violating malignant narcissist who openly brags about his own sexual assaults to help re-elect next year!

Look: I don’t condone any of the negative behaviors listed above. But unless you genuinely well-intentioned idiots out there can learn to understand that there are *different degrees of wrongdoing*, and that no one, NO ONE lives their life without a single blemish on their record, you are once again setting a perfect stage for another four years of this repulsive “government.”

And yes, that will be your fault. Because you have learned nothing. Because in your effort to wash away every single spot of dirt (which for some messed-up reason makes *you* feel like you’re more clean), you are going to re-elect a mountain of actual shit. And when children remain and sometimes die in cages, and refugees keep getting left to starve and die, and international treaties continue to be torn to shreds, or the world itself literally gets blown to pieces: your very last thought can be gratitude that at least you got rid of that horrible man who touched people on the shoulder.

Grow up.

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Cycles of Abuse: How a Book Review Undermines Its Own Aim To End Domestic Violence

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I’m sorry that this is another post where I have to fight my own, but here goes. I just came across an infuriating review on salon.com about Orson Scott Card’s book “Speaker for the Dead.” The review is by Noah Berlatsky.

Now don’t get me wrong: though a great author, Orson Scott Card has plenty of flaws, and I’m not writing to defend his political positions. In this review, however, Berlatsky skewers the book for daring to give a backstory to a character who beats his wife. The backstory, as is sadly all too common in life, is that the abusive character had also been chronically abused as a child. Berlatsky tells us this narrative is unacceptable. In his (of course “his” – I just love it when men speak on behalf of women on major news sites; I’m sure you women don’t find that condescending in the slightest) words, which in context are dripping with sarcasm:

“What we’re supposed to get from this is that everyone, even the most despised, most violent person, is understandable. Even a wife beater deserves empathy.”

…yes. That is EXACTLY what you’re supposed to get from it. Because empathy is not the same as approval. And explaining something is not the same as excusing it. But if you want to change people, if you want to reduce terrible things like domestic violence, first you need to understand that such monsters do not usually come out of nowhere. They are usually created, in a stream of abuse that can go back for generations.

The irony – and the reason this upsets me so much – is that by suggesting that it is forbidden to examine the reasons why bad people act the way they do, the reviewer is harming his own noble belief that abuse of any kind is unacceptable. Because unfortunately, you don’t solve problems by shouting about them. You solve problems by identifying the cause, and working to eradicate that cause.

Do you think that maybe, more often than not, abusers were once abused themselves? If so (and it is so), do you think maybe that’s something we, as a society, should talk about? Or do you think that lambasting a believable backstory for a fictional character is more likely to solve the problem?

Too often, the abused become abusers. This does not excuse their actions in the slightest. But it does teach you about the responsibility we have, even as children, to be loving and kind to everyone, because we each carry the capacity to hurt people, and when those people find themselves in a position of power, they are very likely to pass that pain on to someone else. And so the cycle continues.

This review was sad on a number of levels, and it demonstrates what I, as a proud progressive liberal, find so embarrassing about the insanely far left: namely, when they are so smugly and irrationally opposed to meaningful, nuanced conversation that might actually lead to meaningful change that they attempt to shut down the conversation entirely. But I ask you: what great social change was ever brought about by silence?

So a few more words to the far left: your hearts and intentions are genuinely noble and pure. You seek to lift up the oppressed, and to create a more equal and just society. I honor you for that. But too often, your methods and actions actually accomplish the exact opposite of those noble goals. And in the process, you can become the very enemy you despise.

Think about it.

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Remembering Natasha Reatig: My Cousin, My Muse, My Mentor, and My Dear, Dear Friend

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I don’t know how to write this. I’m hoping that if I just keep typing, the words will come. Because the truth is, though I became painfully familiar with the grief of losing close family at the age of 9, rarely has my heart felt so thoroughly ripped from my body. Never has the world felt so wrong, as if the very magnetic forces that keep it together have simply ceased to be. I’ve been told that the degree to which we love someone is precisely the degree of pain we will feel at losing them. And in my 32 years on this earth, never have I encountered anyone or anything that can compare to the light, the joy, the beauty and the timeless celebration of life that was my cousin Natasha.

When I was a child, Natasha was this ethereal, magical creature who defied (and greatly enhanced) my perception of what it meant to be an adult. This fiery rebel with bright purple hair, this unshakeable force of nature who positively defined the words “joie de vivre.” By day, Natasha worked as a prominent leader in multiple government organizations dedicated to mental health advocacy and awareness, for which she was awarded the Secretary’s Award for Distinguished Services in 1996, presented by the HHS Secretary herself. (For more on this and so many of Natasha’s accomplishments, I hope you might read Natasha’s obituary, written by her brother Bill Bates).

In other words, by day Natasha was already a superhero; so you can only imagine the heights of her role as Superhero by Night. Natasha was on the front lines of the punk scene from its very inception, fought hard for causes ranging from civil rights to anti-war protests, was the very embodiment of the Women’s Liberation Movement, founded the Rosebud Film Festival, and hosted weekly salons where she brought together every breed of artist, misfit, and visionary that you could possibly imagine. So when it comes to Natasha, we aren’t just talking about a life well-lived: we are talking about ten lives somehow packed into one – each as exquisitely-lived as the next. I hope you will watch the video below, a 1997 interview for the American Artist Series which Natasha and I edited together a couple years ago from a more extended version. This video contains nearly all of the highlights of the many lessons she had to teach. Please watch this video… You will see immediately why this woman was so powerful, unique, joyful and inspiring, and I guarantee your life will be the better for it.

As a teenager, I quickly discovered that being at Natasha’s house, and basking in her presence, filled me with a positive hyperdrive of artistic energy and inspiration. I recently calculated that I have spent a total of one year at her beautiful house in Bethany Beach, Delaware, and that a full quarter of everything I have ever written was created in her house, as she beamed from her loft above, reveling in her greatest joy: to foster art and creativity. We would come together for meals and other adventures, to discuss art, life, love, history, mythology, philosophy, and so much more. Natasha deemed every subject under the moon to be “fascinating” and “fabulous,” and I have always striven to follow her example, and to consider no subject whatsoever to be either beneath my notice or beyond my grasp.

Over the years, I brought three dear friends with me to stay at the magical house at the beach, to bask with me in the glow that was Natasha. One of these individuals was my best friend Julia. I knew that Natasha would provide a beacon of wisdom that would remain with my friend forever – and Natasha did not disappoint.

Over a shared journey in Natasha’s favorite game, “Mix-and-Match Substances,” Natasha told us the story of how she overcame what she once considered to be her greatest weakness, which was an overeager tendency to lose herself in another person, and the realization that if she ever wanted to truly be at peace, she would need to fall in love with herself. As Julia wrote that night on Facebook from Natasha ‘s inspiration, “Stop searching for the person you want to spend the rest of your life with; BECOME the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.” Natasha did that. She fell in love with herself. And for us on the outside, to watch someone that confident, that joyful, that alive – we couldn’t help but fall in love with her, too. And to love ourselves more in the process, to know that we were deemed worthy to be in the presence of such greatness.

To fall in love with oneself may seem on the surface like an incredibly selfish action – so how then did we end up with Natasha, who is easily the most generous, the most gracious person I have ever known, the kind of person who dedicates so much of her life advocating for the needs and rights of others, and to supporting and inspiring artists of every form? I think it’s because by fully loving and embracing herself, Natasha gave herself the riskless freedom to love each and every one of us. Deeply.

It is impossible to encapsulate all of the wisdom and goodness of Natasha into a single set of lessons. But I were to try, it would be this:

• Love yourself so that you may freely love others.

• Welcome everyone you can into your heart and home, no matter their age, their sex, their gender, their race, their orientation, and their politics. Only then can we enrich each other’s lives in ways that we will otherwise never know. Natasha welcomed all, and there is not a person who accepted that invitation who is not better because of it. And she was better because of us. She knew that, and she told us often.

• Treat every single day as a celebration. A night at Natasha’s was not complete without a toast to family and friends to the gentle soundtrack of 50’s jazz. Or David Bowie, depending on the night. Or gothic rock. This woman had the most prolific taste I’ve ever seen, and would have been equally at home at a 20’s Speakeasy as she would at a punk rock concert.

Which brings me to Natasha’s final lesson, and the one that not only touched so many who loved her, but for many of us was the most formative lesson of all:

• Love, cherish, share, and celebrate Art.

I’d like to end with one more anecdote, taken from my journal on May 6, 2013:

“As Natasha and I drove home from Rehoboth this evening, there was so much fog that you couldn’t see more than 100 feet in any direction. It felt like the world was being created bit by bit as we traveled through it, created just for us, and fading from existence after we passed through. It was beautiful, and amazingly, Natasha had never seen it before. Her excitement was beyond belief. She cranked the ethereal classical music way up, laughed with delight, and marveled like a child at the beauty of the world around her. 72 years old, and still she can barely contain her excitement for life and this beautiful universe. I wish we could all see the world as she does.”

It’s very foggy right now. The way back is gone forever. The way ahead is unclear. But as Natasha’s favorite quote by Vivian Greene says, “Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to end, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.”

And so, in the midst of some of the most painful grief I have ever known, I nevertheless raise my glass (as she would want me to) to celebrate the greatest, boldest, and most gracious dancer of all. Thank you, Natasha – my cousin – my joy – my muse – my mentor – and my dear, dear friend. Your dance lives on in us, the people you loved who only learned the steps because you were there to teach us. I will miss you forever. I will love you forever. And I will never, ever let you go.

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“RENT” Introduces Cy O’Neal (And So Do I)

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Hi folks! Those of you who watched RENT on Fox last night may have noticed an interesting change: that the leader of the Life Support group was changed from a man named Paul to a woman named Cy.

I was absolutely delighted by this, because Cy is, in fact, the real inspiration for the character Paul. Cy is Cy O’Neal, who founded the support group “Friends In Deed,” which Jonathan Larson attended and used as the basis for the support group in RENT.

I’m telling you this because it’s an opportunity to tell you a little about Cy, who is without question the most inspiring person I have ever met. I was lucky enough to be welcomed into the Friends In Deed community at the end of my Freshman year of college, and without Cy – whom I used call my “surrogate grandmother” back when I would routinely run to her office between classes at NYU – I’m honestly not sure I would have made it through at all. I certainly wouldn’t be the person I am today, or have any meaningful tools to cope with my own physical condition. And for those of you who have attended the support groups I lead: if you have gained any wisdom from me whatsoever, chances are pretty good that it can be traced directly back to Cy.

Cy O’Neal and Michael Bihovsky at Friends In Deed, September 2015

Cy would respond to what I just wrote by telling you that any wisdom she’s accrued is borrowed from mystics and philosophers and healers throughout the world and throughout history. But the messenger matters. And I can think of no greater messenger than Cy, who has the uncanny ability to guide people to laughter through the most sorrowful of tears, to treat everyone with kindness and dignity and without judgment, and to provide tools and love and support without ever telling anyone what they “should” do. I am so grateful for to Cy for teaching me how to live gracefully with illness – I don’t always live up to it, but when I do, it’s because of her.

If you’re interested in learning more about how this amazing woman came to found a support group for people with HIV (the group eventually expanded to include other conditions and life circumstances as well) to talk about their fears and falls and triumphs when almost no one was talking about the epidemic at all, you should check out her memoir, “Talk Softly.”

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