It was late Sunday night, and we were all heading home together from company class on the BART. The entire time, a Funkster named Steve rested his head on my shoulder. Eventually, his stop came, and we all waved him goodbye.
Four or five stops later when we were waiting at a transfer station, a beginning dancer, who we had all met earlier during the day, approached me with a question.
The question couldn’t have sounded any snider.
“So, was that guy gay?”
First of all, I admit I kinda liked how the way he asked it implied that he still thought I was straight. I figured that I must be so damn masculine that any guy could hook onto my arm and I’d still seem like the type to fuck vaginas.
I shook off the brief feeling of accomplishment. I felt the need to say something in defense of Steve and the gay community in general. I didn’t have to verbally push the kid into the train tracks, but I should’ve said something. Well, I knew I should’ve, but I still didn’t really want to. I had been perpetually in a transition period, from my old self who would just say, “Yeah what a fag,” to one who would say, “AH HELL NAW!”
I have definitely stopped hating every gay guy I meet on spot. That’s good. But it has been so easy to accept that other people are gay in comparison to accepting, well, myself—myself being jee-aay-why. It was the one truth that I would have to live with forever, but I didn’t know what to do with it. Not knowing only has only given me internal conflicts to work with, and standing there debating my own internal conflicts didn’t help when situations like this one required only the truth.
I found myself in front of this 17-year-old kid without words to say. But I also found myself without motivation to form those words. I still had conflicts from my past, my “old self,” that I still hadn’t resolved, and I couldn’t find the strength to temporarily forget those and resolve the current conflict at hand.
Instead, I joked, “Dude, we’re all gay.” Considering the three male Funksters plus me riding on the BART that night, this statement was actually true. But I said it—I intended to say it—in a way to steer the conversation away from flames to something a lot more lighthearted.
“Oh, so I must be gay too!” he joked back.
I tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, sure.”
From there I masterfully changed the topic. Just as how I would always do.
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“‘Fags!’ - Oh No”
Written March 10th, 2007 (Excerpted)
Honestly though, if you’re gay, and you’re just walking around and you overhear some random strangers’ conversation with the word “faggot” in it, and it just drives you crazy, you really need to just shut the hell up.
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“Happy Gay Pride Month, FAGGOTS”
Written June 3rd, 2007 (Excerpted)
Gay Pride Parades are the most fucking stupid pieces of gay faggot shit ever. I don’t even know why I am even bothering to capitalize “gay pride parades.” What could gay pride parades possibly celebrate that makes sense? Asian dragon parades celebrate Asian culture. Cinco de Mayo parades celebrate Mexican culture. Gay pride parades celebrate gay culture? Or being gay? Or just being proud to be out of the closet? Well, apparently, by standards of gay pride parades, gay culture, being gay, or being proud to be out of the closet is equivalent to this, this, and this. Sweet, the guy in the last picture looks just like me.
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“Lawrence King: Dumbass A-Z”
Written April 25th, 2008 (Excerpted)
[Lawrence King] flirted with his enemies. Flirted. What? He intentionally provoked them? Yes...What is especially irritating is that the media tries to glorify such a nitwitted move. “And when the other boys made fun of him, [Lawrence King] would boldly tease them right back by flirting with them.” So, if you want to be bold, you should retaliate by teasing haters with your smooth words, sensual motions, and arousing allure. Email Kidshealth.org and tell them to add “flirting” under their list of ways to handle bullies. Now let’s see how many numskulls who look up to Lawrence King as a role model and a hero get their asses kicked (and heads shot).
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I can’t yet let myself be the best that I can possibly be, but I take comfort in knowing that I’m still a better person today.
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6 comments:
Yep. This means you're maturing. A large portion of young, immature gays polarize into either: hyper-masculinization (the self-hating type) or over-the-top campiness (societal pressure to play into the role). These types of behavior are seen mainly in public, though. Hardly in private. Which is why when you take the time to get to know a 'fag', you realize it's more of a public persona than anything.
I find the best way to fight public perception is to remain consistent with my behavior. How I act in public is how I am one on one.
Maybe someday, you'll be able to hold hands with someone in public.
By the way, some people think you're more flamboyant than I am :) Jes sayin. We'll talk about this over dinner.
Also, I haven't had the misfortune to run into this kind of situation. I don't know if it's because I hang out with people who are generally respectful or otherwise. It helps that I don't keep secrets either. My sexuality is pretty out in the open so people know not to put me in this kind of situation.
So when the guy asked if he were gay, it was clear he was making it a negative thing? Could it have easily been an innocent question?
I would have just said "Yes" and been done with it.
i just find it interesting how it's interpreted as negative, because he didn't say a slur, or anything.
the way he said it was pretty negative.
Ooh, maybe you can study tone/emotion in experimental phonology.
hmm. that's an interesting and clever response now that i've let it simmer in
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