see the whole video here: youtube.com/watch ?v=dRkIWB3HIEs
The video helped bring attention to this ridiculous law, but the Tennessee legislature was far from done. Within a year, they proposed two other outrageous bills. One protected bullies who target LGBT youth by making an exception for acts committed in the name of “religious freedom.” The second, targeted towards transgendered people, would make it a criminal offense to use any public facility designated for a gender other than what appears on your birth certificate. The sponsor threatened publicly to “stomp a mud hole” through any transgendered person coming near his family.
I again felt compelled to respond. In a second video, which I modeled after the fireside chats of President Franklin Delano
Roosevelt, I suggested that these three lawmakers were like certain “friends of Dorothy,” in that they lacked brains, heart and courage. So I got gifts for each of them, hoping to help their situation: an “It’s OK to be Takei” shirt for the author of the “Don’t Say Gay” law, whose bill was a true straw man; for the author of the bully protection law, a copy of Twilight — a movie so “Takei” that even his heartless soul couldn’t help but flutter; and for the author of the transgendered bathroom prohibition, a gift certificate to women’s clothier Lane Bryant, in the hope he could find the courage to be who he really is on the inside. You can see the full video here: vimeo.com/38068014
I don’t know ultimately whether my videos changed any minds within the Tennessee legislature. What I do know is that they helped bring national attention to local tomfoolery, and that all three bills failed to get to a full vote on the floor. For that, I’m grateful.
In taking on certain Tennessee state legislators, however, I set for myself quite a precedent, one that I fear will be hard to match. So many states and municipalities have become embroiled in controversy, particularly over marriage equality, that I am asked almost daily to lend my voice and support (or opposition, as the case may be) to ballot measures, initiatives, pending legislation, or political struggles. It seemed the LGBT cause needed a new hero, but I wasn’t sure I was its guy. This is all very new for me, because suddenly I have what I call a responsibility of numbers; the more “numbers” of fans, the more I know I can make a real difference. But not all of us are built to be real superheroes. I may have donned a Spidey outfit and taken on some bad guys, and I may have even thumbed my nose at small-minded legislators in Tennessee. But will my style of activism, coupled as it is with a particularly quirky sense of humor, be able to carry the day with greater causes, and before larger audiences?
I already know that many fans prefer that I stay on the sidelines, and stick to acting and making people laugh. They prefer to see me as an affable good sport, not someone out to make a real difference. But they might have to get used to seeing more of “activist” me around. Once you put on a superhero outfit, you start to feel like you really can take on the world’s villains.
By the Numbers
When I first started posting my miscellany online, I had only one number to keep track of — Twitter followers. At the time, I didn’t have a Facebook account, though there was a fan page on Facebook that someone else had created using my name with something on the order of 20,000 “likes.” In the early going, it was rather like a game to see how many more people each day had clicked “follow” on Twitter, and to pay attention to things like my “Klout” score — which purports to measure influence across the Interwebs, but really feels more like a constant source of collective judgment.
The clever folks behind the social media curtain have managed to “game-ify” the whole experience, meaning we all are tempted to check the leader-boards. Having raw numbers at your disposal
The video helped bring attention to this ridiculous law, but the Tennessee legislature was far from done. Within a year, they proposed two other outrageous bills. One protected bullies who target LGBT youth by making an exception for acts committed in the name of “religious freedom.” The second, targeted towards transgendered people, would make it a criminal offense to use any public facility designated for a gender other than what appears on your birth certificate. The sponsor threatened publicly to “stomp a mud hole” through any transgendered person coming near his family.
I again felt compelled to respond. In a second video, which I modeled after the fireside chats of President Franklin Delano
Roosevelt, I suggested that these three lawmakers were like certain “friends of Dorothy,” in that they lacked brains, heart and courage. So I got gifts for each of them, hoping to help their situation: an “It’s OK to be Takei” shirt for the author of the “Don’t Say Gay” law, whose bill was a true straw man; for the author of the bully protection law, a copy of Twilight — a movie so “Takei” that even his heartless soul couldn’t help but flutter; and for the author of the transgendered bathroom prohibition, a gift certificate to women’s clothier Lane Bryant, in the hope he could find the courage to be who he really is on the inside. You can see the full video here: vimeo.com/38068014
I don’t know ultimately whether my videos changed any minds within the Tennessee legislature. What I do know is that they helped bring national attention to local tomfoolery, and that all three bills failed to get to a full vote on the floor. For that, I’m grateful.
In taking on certain Tennessee state legislators, however, I set for myself quite a precedent, one that I fear will be hard to match. So many states and municipalities have become embroiled in controversy, particularly over marriage equality, that I am asked almost daily to lend my voice and support (or opposition, as the case may be) to ballot measures, initiatives, pending legislation, or political struggles. It seemed the LGBT cause needed a new hero, but I wasn’t sure I was its guy. This is all very new for me, because suddenly I have what I call a responsibility of numbers; the more “numbers” of fans, the more I know I can make a real difference. But not all of us are built to be real superheroes. I may have donned a Spidey outfit and taken on some bad guys, and I may have even thumbed my nose at small-minded legislators in Tennessee. But will my style of activism, coupled as it is with a particularly quirky sense of humor, be able to carry the day with greater causes, and before larger audiences?
I already know that many fans prefer that I stay on the sidelines, and stick to acting and making people laugh. They prefer to see me as an affable good sport, not someone out to make a real difference. But they might have to get used to seeing more of “activist” me around. Once you put on a superhero outfit, you start to feel like you really can take on the world’s villains.
By the Numbers
When I first started posting my miscellany online, I had only one number to keep track of — Twitter followers. At the time, I didn’t have a Facebook account, though there was a fan page on Facebook that someone else had created using my name with something on the order of 20,000 “likes.” In the early going, it was rather like a game to see how many more people each day had clicked “follow” on Twitter, and to pay attention to things like my “Klout” score — which purports to measure influence across the Interwebs, but really feels more like a constant source of collective judgment.
The clever folks behind the social media curtain have managed to “game-ify” the whole experience, meaning we all are tempted to check the leader-boards. Having raw numbers at your disposal
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