"You think I'm a queer? I think you're a queer."
So tonight, a man in West Chester told me I deserved to have my "fag body" thrown into a meat grinder, and I have been crying since 9:45 because of it.
Josh's mom dragged us around to her friend's barbeque, and warns me this guy is a truck driver, this guy is kind of dumb, this guy is startlingly homophobic, this guy is a fake republican. But, you know, he's a really nice guy. Hilarious. Great to drink with.
So, okay, I give him a chance.
And everything's fine. Great dinner. Easter egg hunt for the kids. Jesus and his pals, a good 'ol christian-god-praising hootenany out in the suburban nowhere to match all nowheres.
And then, we're all hanging out awkwardly with drunken adults in a hot tub, and someone mentions a bisexual friend of hers, and with one Crown-Royal-infused-stupor-statement, this guy I don't even fucking know condenses my entire existence, my whole being, my past, present, and future of everything I stand for, into the general idea that instead of falling in love with women, I should be a can of dog food :
"Anyone who even begins to have sick fuckin' thoughts like that deserves to have their fag body thrown into a meat grinder."
I have determined that there is nothing so painful, nothing so deeply frustrating, as being an American, in a fellow American's house, completely unable to defend yourself or your personal freedoms from the violent slurs and advances and insults of the blindy, blindly ignorant.
I don't like to boast the hell out of myself, but I've known what it's like to be the minority doormat of an aryan-ruled and governed culture every minute of my life. The second I took my first breath, I began my ascent to being everything that I am proud of, and my descent/dissent into what everyone else seems to hate; just your average biracial, jewish, bisexual, atheistic, pro-choice, pro-sex feminist vegetarian who doesn't know how to drive a car or fall in love or not cry at the end of "Eternal Sunshine".
Triple threat? Try octo-threat. A tattooed creature with tentacles of liberal idealism. But I know what I fucking am. And I am goddamned proud of it.
I cried tonight because every time something like this happens, I feel thousands of personal obligations to say something, to stand up for myself and everyone I know, and tonight I didn't. Tonight, I couldn't. Tonight, I ran silently away from the conversation to go cry in the bathroom because people like this are dangerous--people like this have guns, and knives, and threats, and don't listen to reason or theories or stories or advice. People like this have no empathy or sympathy.
People like this have no souls.
And this is the world we live in. All of us.
I told Josh later, "I didn't want to argue with this guy, I just wanted to let him know I exist. Silence is what holds us back. I know I'm not going to change this guy's opinions, or who he his. But I exist. And they have to know that."
Because we are a veritable treasure trove of limitless discrimination, there's this stigma in America where you can't fully grasp the expanse or depth of a prejudice until you experience it personally. Besides the slight general alienation of my peers, I have never really been discriminated against for my sexual orientation. And this wasn't even direct, because he knew nothing about me, and the comment wasn't directed at me or anyone in particular.
But believe me. It's hard to stand up for yourself when someone's cut off your legs.
And it fucking hurt(s).
Tonight, I understand the rate of GLBTQ suicide. Because who wants to live in a world where the most dangerous thing you can do is exist?
So what would you do?
Josh's mom dragged us around to her friend's barbeque, and warns me this guy is a truck driver, this guy is kind of dumb, this guy is startlingly homophobic, this guy is a fake republican. But, you know, he's a really nice guy. Hilarious. Great to drink with.
So, okay, I give him a chance.
And everything's fine. Great dinner. Easter egg hunt for the kids. Jesus and his pals, a good 'ol christian-god-praising hootenany out in the suburban nowhere to match all nowheres.
And then, we're all hanging out awkwardly with drunken adults in a hot tub, and someone mentions a bisexual friend of hers, and with one Crown-Royal-infused-stupor-statement, this guy I don't even fucking know condenses my entire existence, my whole being, my past, present, and future of everything I stand for, into the general idea that instead of falling in love with women, I should be a can of dog food :
"Anyone who even begins to have sick fuckin' thoughts like that deserves to have their fag body thrown into a meat grinder."
I have determined that there is nothing so painful, nothing so deeply frustrating, as being an American, in a fellow American's house, completely unable to defend yourself or your personal freedoms from the violent slurs and advances and insults of the blindy, blindly ignorant.
I don't like to boast the hell out of myself, but I've known what it's like to be the minority doormat of an aryan-ruled and governed culture every minute of my life. The second I took my first breath, I began my ascent to being everything that I am proud of, and my descent/dissent into what everyone else seems to hate; just your average biracial, jewish, bisexual, atheistic, pro-choice, pro-sex feminist vegetarian who doesn't know how to drive a car or fall in love or not cry at the end of "Eternal Sunshine".
Triple threat? Try octo-threat. A tattooed creature with tentacles of liberal idealism. But I know what I fucking am. And I am goddamned proud of it.
I cried tonight because every time something like this happens, I feel thousands of personal obligations to say something, to stand up for myself and everyone I know, and tonight I didn't. Tonight, I couldn't. Tonight, I ran silently away from the conversation to go cry in the bathroom because people like this are dangerous--people like this have guns, and knives, and threats, and don't listen to reason or theories or stories or advice. People like this have no empathy or sympathy.
People like this have no souls.
And this is the world we live in. All of us.
I told Josh later, "I didn't want to argue with this guy, I just wanted to let him know I exist. Silence is what holds us back. I know I'm not going to change this guy's opinions, or who he his. But I exist. And they have to know that."
Because we are a veritable treasure trove of limitless discrimination, there's this stigma in America where you can't fully grasp the expanse or depth of a prejudice until you experience it personally. Besides the slight general alienation of my peers, I have never really been discriminated against for my sexual orientation. And this wasn't even direct, because he knew nothing about me, and the comment wasn't directed at me or anyone in particular.
But believe me. It's hard to stand up for yourself when someone's cut off your legs.
And it fucking hurt(s).
Tonight, I understand the rate of GLBTQ suicide. Because who wants to live in a world where the most dangerous thing you can do is exist?
So what would you do?