Why David Wojnarowicz Is Much More Important to America Than Those Campaigning Against "A Fire in My Belly"

David Wojnarowicz's memoir Close to the Knives changed my mind about the nature of the political issues involved with homosexuality in the United States. Growing up gay, I had always felt that there was something tyrannical about how gay Americans were treated (we were asked to pay the same taxes but were not accurately or fairly represented in public discourse and certainly not treated equally via federal or most state legislatures [things have improved in that department since I was a kid]). So it was simply an issue of fairness to my mind.

Wojnarowicz however got me to see that the struggle by homosexuals in this country isn't just about civil rights, but rather about human rights. He didn't tell his story from the position of a subsection of culture that's oppressed...an "other." Rather, he told it from the position of a human. A compassionate, flawed, kind, generous, vulnerable, determined human. Anyone with a heart and open mind could identify with his anger. He loved life, and his, as troubled and full of misery and bigotry as it had been, was being extinguished far too early. And like the prince of a man he seemed to be, he would not go quietly into that night...so he told us how things really were, how things really felt, how people really behaved, and what it meant to be so freaking alive and want to see so much of the world that you could barely stand to sit still. He saw things, Mr. Wojnarowicz, about who we are as a nation that only those with the clearest of vision would notice. It wasn't a pretty picture he offered us. There will be no Disney musicals based on Close to the Knives or "A Fire in my Belly" or any of his other work perhaps. But it was a heart-breakingly honest human picture.

And so I find it remarkably ironic that leaders of this country who reportedly never bothered to visit the exhibition from which the cowards at the National Portrait Gallery removed Wojnarowicz's video "A Fire in My Belly," but still jumped up on their soap boxes only after seeing a snippet of the film, have framed their objection as: "American families have a right to expect better from recipients of taxpayer funds in a tough economy."

If the nation has more honest, and more reassuring depictions of human frailty and the struggle for survival than Wojnarowicz's work, I for one would love to see them. Where are they? Why are you hiding them from us in this economy?

Now I will acknowledge and even applaud the diligence of the Catholic League in protesting what it sees as disrespectful treatment of Christian images. It is as important to ensure their freedom of speech as it is anyone else's. I do, however, wish Bill Donohue would watch the film with a more open mind than I think he has and with a bit more art history under his belt. As the Los Angeles Times' critic Christopher Knight so aptly stated the case:

Ants and bugs are an age-old artistic symbol that laments the frailty of human beings and earthly existence. As Ecclesiastes puts it: Vanitas vanitatum omnia vanitas -- “Vanity of vanities; all is vanity.” Ant-covered flora, bodies and animals turn up in everything from still life paintings in the largely Protestant 17th-century Netherlands to the silent Surrealist film, “An Andalusian Dog” (1929) by the Spanish director Luis Bunuel and artist Salvador Dali, a conservative Catholic.

Beyond the Catholic League, though, the GOP leaders lining up to protest in front of the cameras in this case are acting so transparently that it's kind of amazing they're showing up on video at all. Here again, Knight nails the irony:

Objectively speaking, an artist bent on making an anti-Christian diatribe would not spend just 15 seconds of a 13-minute video making it. Those images instead serve another function: To rebuke the same self-righteous moralism of those who are attacking the Smithsonian now.

Indeed, there's a scene in "A Fire in My Belly" during which ants crawl over US currency, something their actions consistently suggest the GOP views as much more sacred than they do true Christian values or imagery. If they were protesting that scene, it would be easier for me to believe in their sincerity.

Of course, many suspect that this brouhaha is just the typical Washingtonian distraction from some other more important issue...a circus for the masses while DC insiders hand out billions of our tax dollars to their true overlords. None of the outrage I've read online from those opposed to the video seems to be coming from people who've seen it or even people who are bothering to offer anything other than the pre-written talking points. It's a made-for-the-internet sort of controversy. But as such, it's hardly important to "American families."

Well, except perhaps those American families with gay members in them (who are once again being scapegoated here for political posturing), but even we don't really care if the National Portrait Gallery flushes its credibility down the toilet. We've seen the film and you too can see it without visiting NPG. You can watch it here, here, and here in person or here, here, here, and here online. (It is as stunning and soulful as it is heartbreaking...so I do encourage you to make the time).

What is important in a tough economy is that we resist the temptation to drive wedges between the subgroups of our population. That we remain as united as we can, work to help each other, and perhaps even take the time to reflect on our humanity as a reminder of why we're all in this together. No one has taught me more important truths about humanity than David Wojnarowicz. He's one of America's most important artists. He belongs in our museums. Now or any other time.

Also, don't miss this brilliant essay by Dan Cameron on Why Wojnarowicz Matters.