PGA Diversity Blog

Opinion

Even if you've never seen Glee, the Fox dramedy with show tunes in its veins and opera in its nervous system, you probably know that it's TV's gayest product since Richard Simmons. Last week's episode centered on a singing contest of "Defying Gravity," the anticonformity anthem from Wicked, every tween girl's favorite musical. The contestants: Rachel the glee-club diva vs. Kurt the, um—what's the male version of diva? Kurt (Chris Colfer) wears fluffy Alexander McQueen sweaters and sings notes high enough to make your fillings hurt. He can belt Beyoncé's "Single Ladies" and thrust his hips better than Ms. Knowles herself. Yet he can also melt your heart with his fortitude and frankness, especially during his fraught talks with his dad, a mechanic who still remembers when his son wore high heels—as a toddler. That's the thing about Kurt: he can be endearing, but he's also confusing. In one episode, the glee club split into a boys' team and a girls' team. Guess which side Kurt went for?

Opinion

I'm not a morning person, but my 1-year-old is. But then again so is his mother, which fortunately means I don't have to abruptly rouse myself out of bed as soon as I hear "da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da-da-da-da-da" coming out of the baby monitor perched atop the window on my side of the bed at 6:30am.

At some point a little person appears beside me. My bed, his booster seat, and I slowly drift towards consciousness. My morning haze isn't crowded with thoughts about what the day will bring - not the mountain of work I have to do, the numerous errands I have to run, nor the never-ending list of emails I should force myself to return. Instead, I find myself silently rapping about some guy named Murray and his little lamb, while visions of a purple puppet and two noodles dance around on my eyelids. "It's November, right?" I ask myself, puzzled by why I find myself talking to someone about Cinco de Mayo parade decorations.

Opinion

Dear Pixar,

This is not an angry letter. It is especially not an angry letter about Up, which I adored. I could have sat in the theater and watched it two more times in a row. I cried, but I also laughed so hard in places that it wore me out.

So I'm not complaining; I'm asking. I'm asking because I think so highly of you.

Please make a movie about a girl who is not a princess.

Of the ten movies you've released so far, ten of them have central characters who are boys or men, or who are anthropomorphized animals or robots or bugs who are voiced by and imagined as boys or men. These movies feature women and girls to varying degrees -- The Incredibles, in particular -- but the story is never "a girl and the things that happen to her," the way it's "a boy and what happens to him."

Opinion

The American melting pot seems to be alternating between a steady simmer and boiling over. Our newspapers carry the latest stories about one diversity issue or another: immigration, racial harassment, hate crimes, prejudice and discrimination in the workplace, reflections on Obama's historic election, speculation about the First Lady's influence on the self-image of women of color, as well as the outrage that erupts whenever a celebrity or politician utters an inappropriate comment. As public discussion about race and gender in America continues in press conferences, speeches and town hall meetings, I've been reflecting on the "gospel of diversity" as it is preached in boardrooms, seminars, conferences, pulpits and court rooms around the country.