by Tamar Iveri, Soprano
Special Guest Columnist
Recently, an open letter I wrote has gone public, attracting a great deal of criticism. In that letter, I asked the President of the Republic of Georgia — my homeland — to resist Western attempts to normalize the repellent practices of homosexuality. When I wrote, I used a wide variety of the rich poetic tradition of Georgian metaphor, including abundant references to poo-poo.
Since then, the public outcry has been so great that campaigns have begun to persuade opera houses to cancel my contracts. At Opera Australia, I am currently rehearsing the role of Desdemona, a totally heterosexual woman who, to her eternal shame and sorrow, is married to a Negro; later this year, I am scheduled to sing the role of Tosca, another completely heterosexual woman who would not be interested in having relations with any other woman, even if there were other women in this opera.
Many opera fans and supporters of filthy homosexual so-called culture are writing to Opera Australia to demand that I be dropped from the company’s roster. To them I say, “Thank you! But why stop there?”
You cannot imagine what an ordeal it is for me to work in opera. Do you realize how many homosexuals there are? I am surrounded! Constantly! It is not healthy, I say, and had I realized just how bad the situation was, I am sure I would have taken up another career altogether, such as automotive repair.
When I sing, there is a very real possibility that I may be singing with a homosexual. Many stage directors, designers, and orchestra musicians are homosexuals — even some conductors! Backstage, the technicians may be homosexual, and you can imagine that many homosexuals do my hair and makeup, and help me with my costumes.
Imagine! There I am, in my underwear, being clothed by someone who engages in intimate relations with a person of his or her own sex! And I have been put in this position again and again, for as long as I have been singing opera. It is unimaginable, really, and yet it is true.
What is perhaps most painful is the presence of so many homosexuals in the audience, at every opera house, everywhere in the world. There they are, applauding me, night after night. They love me! Can you imagine how this makes me feel, as a heterosexual artist? If homosexuals approve of me, then I must be a truly terrible singer — for, after all, what do homosexuals know?
Oh, how I long to withdraw from the world, to find a place that is pure and free of all traces of filthy homosexuality! I am still researching just where, precisely, that place might be, for even in the Republic of Georgia, there are two or three homosexuals — and that is too many! However, I am told that in Iran there are no homosexuals at all, so perhaps that is the place for me.
I say to you now, it is not enough that Opera Australia cancel all my contracts. Please, I beg of you, do whatever you can to force me into early retirement. I can no longer bear to be surrounded by homosexuals! Please, take pity on me! Save me! Save me now!
Special Guest Columnist
Recently, an open letter I wrote has gone public, attracting a great deal of criticism. In that letter, I asked the President of the Republic of Georgia — my homeland — to resist Western attempts to normalize the repellent practices of homosexuality. When I wrote, I used a wide variety of the rich poetic tradition of Georgian metaphor, including abundant references to poo-poo.
Since then, the public outcry has been so great that campaigns have begun to persuade opera houses to cancel my contracts. At Opera Australia, I am currently rehearsing the role of Desdemona, a totally heterosexual woman who, to her eternal shame and sorrow, is married to a Negro; later this year, I am scheduled to sing the role of Tosca, another completely heterosexual woman who would not be interested in having relations with any other woman, even if there were other women in this opera.
Many opera fans and supporters of filthy homosexual so-called culture are writing to Opera Australia to demand that I be dropped from the company’s roster. To them I say, “Thank you! But why stop there?”
You cannot imagine what an ordeal it is for me to work in opera. Do you realize how many homosexuals there are? I am surrounded! Constantly! It is not healthy, I say, and had I realized just how bad the situation was, I am sure I would have taken up another career altogether, such as automotive repair.
When I sing, there is a very real possibility that I may be singing with a homosexual. Many stage directors, designers, and orchestra musicians are homosexuals — even some conductors! Backstage, the technicians may be homosexual, and you can imagine that many homosexuals do my hair and makeup, and help me with my costumes.
Imagine! There I am, in my underwear, being clothed by someone who engages in intimate relations with a person of his or her own sex! And I have been put in this position again and again, for as long as I have been singing opera. It is unimaginable, really, and yet it is true.
What is perhaps most painful is the presence of so many homosexuals in the audience, at every opera house, everywhere in the world. There they are, applauding me, night after night. They love me! Can you imagine how this makes me feel, as a heterosexual artist? If homosexuals approve of me, then I must be a truly terrible singer — for, after all, what do homosexuals know?
Oh, how I long to withdraw from the world, to find a place that is pure and free of all traces of filthy homosexuality! I am still researching just where, precisely, that place might be, for even in the Republic of Georgia, there are two or three homosexuals — and that is too many! However, I am told that in Iran there are no homosexuals at all, so perhaps that is the place for me.
I say to you now, it is not enough that Opera Australia cancel all my contracts. Please, I beg of you, do whatever you can to force me into early retirement. I can no longer bear to be surrounded by homosexuals! Please, take pity on me! Save me! Save me now!