I am so glad to be back on my regular schedule, and this is my work from home day. Our idiot president said the other day, “Nobody’s going to work from home, they’re going to be going out, they’re gonna play tennis, they’re gonna play golf. They’re gonna do a lot of things—they’re not working.” The reporter who was presenting the story then went on to show the orange asshole playing golf. Just because he doesn’t not actually do any work other than sign executive orders that he didn’t write and make the most idiotic appointments, doesn’t mean that other people who are working from home aren’t doing their job. Most days that I’m working from home, I get more accomplished than when I’m at the office. No one is there to bother or interrupt me. And besides, the Oval Office, where the president is supposed to actually work is in the White House and is his home. Furthermore, he spends more time at Mar-a-Lago or his other properties than he does at the White House. Our president is the master of projection, which in psychology means a defense mechanism where an individual attributes their own unacceptable thoughts, feelings, and behavior on others. So, if you want to want to know the truth about anything orange slob says, just change the name of whoever he is talking about and replace it with his name. Nothing that ever comes out of his mouth is truthful, and everything is hateful. In one month, he’s done more damage to our country’s democracy than any president in history has done their whole term in office, and we have a depressing 47 more months to go.
Sorry! When I started this post it was supposed to be about the weekend being almost here and getting to enjoy spending the day with Isabella as she supervises me working at my desk. I got a bit sidetracked. I have things to do to prepare for next week. Most of it has to do with the class I’m teaching, but I’m sure other things will come up as well.
If I didn’t have a class today, I think I’d call in sick, not really because I am sick, though I probably do need a mental health day, but because I just want to crawl back into bed. Isabella started early this morning trying to wake me. I swear this cat knows when it’s a salmon day. I rotate through salmon, tuna, and chicken. Chicken is her least favorite and some days she turns her nose up at it, but salmon is by far her favorite. She’ll occasionally refuse to eat what I give her, but only once in all these years has she ever refused to eat salmon. It always seems like she’s most persistent to wake me in salmon days. Anyway, whatever the reason for her continued persistence this morning was, I’m awake now and will soon have to start getting ready for work. Thank goodness tomorrow is a work from home day.
Here’s your Isabella pic of the week (sorry that I forgot to post one last week). This picture clearly says, “Why? Why did you wake me? Why are you taking my picture? I’m going back to sleep!” If only she’d let me go back so sleep some mornings.
I post a lot of nude photography of men. I have always preferred images that look less professional or posed and I keep away from selfies, except in the pics of guys with cameras that I post on Tuesdays. Occasionally, I receive criticism for posting male nudes while at the same time talking about my faith each Sunday. I think the male body should be celebrated, and some of my readers come to see the photos I will post. If that means they also read my devotionals on Sundays, then it spreads the message I try to convey. That being said, I thought I’d start a weekly series on the male nude in art throughout the history. I doubt I will go in chronological order, but more of an introduction today focusing on the photography of male nudes.
Photography has been a crucial medium in LGBTQ+ art, providing a powerful way to explore identity, desire, and resistance. Male nude photography, in particular, has played a significant role in shaping the visual language of queer art, challenging societal norms, and creating spaces for LGBTQ+ expression. From the early coded works of the 19th century to the bold imagery of contemporary artists, male nude photography has been a key site of queer visibility and activism.
Art has been part of the appreciation of the male body throughout history. The male nude has been a central subject in the history of art, serving as a symbol of idealized beauty, power, and the human condition. In ancient Greece and Rome, male nude sculptures celebrated physical perfection and heroism, embodying philosophical ideals of harmony and virtue. During the Renaissance, artists like Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci revived classical traditions, using the male form to explore anatomy, movement, and divine inspiration. While religious and mythological themes often justified depictions of male nudity, these works also reflected shifting cultural attitudes toward masculinity, physicality, and artistic mastery.
In later centuries, the male nude became more controversial, especially in Western art, where shifting moral standards led to greater censorship. While female nudes remained common, male nudity was often restricted to academic studies or hidden in private collections. In the 19th and 20th centuries, artists like Édouard Manet, Egon Schiele, and later, queer photographers such as George Platt Lynes and Robert Mapplethorpe, used the male nude to challenge societal norms, explore eroticism, and assert LGBTQ+ visibility. Today, the male nude continues to be a powerful subject, reflecting changing perspectives on gender, identity, and artistic freedom.
He’s here in the midst of it – right at the centre of the dance floor, robes hitched up to His knees to make it easy to spin.
At some point in the evening a boy will touch the hem of His robe and beg to be healed, beg to be anything other than this;
and He will reach His arms out, sweat-damp, and weary from dance. He’ll cup this boy’s face in His hand and say,
my beautiful child there is nothing in this heart of yours that ever needs to be healed.
About the Poem
I have posted “Jesus at the Gay Bar” by Jay Hulme once before, but I really love the poem. Some won’t like it because it doesn’t rhyme, but I think it’s beautifully composed. Jay Hulme says he based the poem on Mark 5:25-34 “drawing a parallel between the unnamed woman in the passage, and queer people – more particularly, the “boy” in the poem, a young LGBT man struggling with his queerness, and, it is suggested, struggling with how that reconciles with his faith….To understand the parallel more clearly you first have to understand the context behind Mark 5. Under Levitical law (Leviticus 15:25-30), as it was followed at that time, the woman would have been deemed ‘unclean’ by religious authorities, and she would have been cast out from society for the ‘good’ of that society. (To read more about Hulme’s explanation of the poem, see “Jesus at the Gay Bar” on his website; to read my thoughts on the poem, continue reading.)
“Jesus at the Gay Bar” by Jay Hulme is a powerful and evocative poem that reimagines Jesus in a contemporary queer space, offering a vision of divine love, acceptance, and liberation. The poem challenges traditional religious narratives that have often excluded or condemned LGBTQ+ individuals, instead presenting Jesus as a compassionate and affirming presence. The poem portrays Jesus as someone who embraces and affirms those who have been marginalized, particularly within religious contexts. By placing Jesus in a gay bar, Hulme subverts the expectation that religion excludes queer people, instead showing that Christ’s love extends to everyone.
A key moment in the poem is when Jesus tells a man, “my beautiful child / there is nothing in this heart of yours / that ever needs to be healed.” This line is deeply significant, as it counters the messages of shame and guilt that many LGBTQ+ individuals have received from religious institutions. Jesus is depicted not as a judge, but as a liberator, offering reassurance and unconditional love. By placing Jesus in a gay bar—a space of joy, resistance, and self-expression—Hulme suggests that holiness is not confined to churches or traditional religious spaces. The sacred is found wherever love, truth, and authenticity exist.The poem reclaims religious imagery and reinterprets Christian theology in a way that aligns with radical inclusivity. It challenges the ways Christianity has been used to oppress queer people and instead offers a vision of faith that is celebratory and affirming.
Hulme’s language is tender and intimate, creating a Jesus who is close, personal, and deeply invested in human dignity. The setting of the gay bar, often seen as a place of refuge and community for LGBTQ+ people, reinforces the idea that Jesus meets people where they are, rather than demanding they conform to rigid religious norms.
The contrast between traditional religious depictions of Jesus and this reimagining makes the poem striking. Instead of being distant or judgmental, Jesus is in the midst of dancing, embracing, and healing—actions that symbolize love, grace, and inclusion. “Jesus at the Gay Bar” is a radical and hopeful poem that reclaims faith as a source of love rather than condemnation. It offers a vision of a Christ who is not only present with LGBTQ+ people but actively affirms and delights in their existence. Hulme’s poem is a powerful response to religious exclusion, offering an alternative theology rooted in unconditional love.
About the Poet
Jay Hulme is a British poet, writer, and public speaker known for his work on faith, gender, and LGBTQ+ identity. He is particularly recognized for his accessible and evocative poetry, which often explores themes of queerness, religion, and social justice. Hulme is a transgender man, and his experiences with gender identity and faith frequently inform his writing.
His poetry blends modern, often urban imagery with deep emotional resonance and themes of inclusivity, hope, and belonging. In addition to poetry, Hulme is an advocate for trans rights and speaks publicly about the intersection of faith and queerness, challenging exclusionary religious narratives.
Hulme has published several poetry collections, including Clouds Cannot Cover Us and The Backwater Sermons, the latter of which explicitly engages with spirituality and justice. His work has been widely praised for its lyrical style and its ability to bridge divides between faith communities and LGBTQ+ individuals.
Presidents’ Day is often seen as a celebration of leadership, democracy, and the vision of those who have shaped the United States. But for the LGBTQ+ community, this day can carry a more complex meaning. It is both a reminder of how far we have come in the fight for equality and a call to action against the rising tide of fascism threatening our freedoms.
In recent years, far-right politicians have worked aggressively to roll back LGBTQ+ rights, attack transgender individuals, and undermine democracy itself. This Presidents’ Day, we must ask ourselves: What kind of leadership do we truly honor? Do we celebrate those who uphold justice, or do we resist those who seek to oppress?
American history has been shaped by leaders who both upheld and denied justice. While presidents like Abraham Lincoln fought to expand freedom, others have enforced policies that marginalized communities. The LGBTQ+ community has had to fight for every inch of progress—from the Stonewall riots to marriage equality—often against leaders who sought to erase us.
Today, we face new threats. Across the country, lawmakers are banning gender-affirming healthcare, censoring LGBTQ+ history, and criminalizing queer existence. These actions are not just about policy; they are about power, control, and the systematic erasure of marginalized people.
We cannot afford to pretend that what is happening in the U.S. is politics as usual. The rise of authoritarian leaders pushing anti-LGBTQ+ policies is part of a broader attack on democracy itself. Fascism thrives on scapegoating vulnerable groups, restricting freedoms, and silencing dissent. If we do not resist now, the consequences will be catastrophic—not just for LGBTQ+ people but for everyone.
How to Fight Back:
Vote and Mobilize – The LGBTQ+ community and allies must organize, vote in every election, and push for leaders who uphold human rights.
Support LGBTQ+ Organizations – Groups like the Trevor Project, Lambda Legal, and the ACLU are on the front lines, fighting for our rights.
Challenge Hate in Our Communities – Whether in churches, schools, or workplaces, we must speak out against anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric and policies.
Engage in Peaceful Protest – From Pride marches to demonstrations, public action remains a powerful tool against oppression.
Uplift and Protect One Another – In times of rising hate, mutual aid and community care are essential. No one should have to fight alone.
Presidents’ Day should not just be about honoring the past—it should be about shaping the future. We must demand leaders who fight for justice, not those who spread fear and division. The presidency should be a position of service, not oppression. If those in power refuse to uphold human dignity, then it is our duty to resist them with everything we have.
The LGBTQ+ community has always been resilient. We have survived persecution, discrimination, and violence. And we will continue to fight. Presidents’ Day can be a reminder that leadership is not just about those in office—it’s about all of us, standing together, building a future where love, justice, and equality prevail. This year, let Presidents’ Day be a call to action. The fight is far from over, but we are not alone. Together, we will resist. Together, we will win.
Joe
The Closet Professor 