Did you read about the group of jackasses from Kansas who are planning to protest memorial services for actor Heath Ledger because he portrayed a gay man in Brokeback Mountain?
These are the same douchebags who protested two years ago at my former junior high school, costing taxpayers over two thousand dollars in police presence. (A twelve year old girl had won a writing contest for an essay she'd written on Ellen Degeneres, who just happens to be a lesbian. The nerve of this pre-teen!) These misguided wackjobs can also be found picketing the funerals of soldiers who've died in Iraq.
They have a website, but the domain name is so disgusting, filthy and evil that I will not link to it or even mention its name. Indeed, I'm loath to even visit it, if only for curiosity's sake. (I'm partially afraid Satan will pop through the screen and tweak my nose, such is their special level of evil.)
Stories like this just make my blood boil. I'm a pretty tolerant individual, but I can't say I brake for homophobia. I never did.
I remember being in kindergarten and finally getting to ride the big girl bus with my older sister. There was this sweet, rather portly classmate of Sissy's named Beth who'd kindly allowed me to sit next to her one day. We were chatting, and things were going quite nicely when I dreamily informed her, "you're fat."
I wasn't an unkind child, so to this day I still have no idea what possessed me to say such a terrible thing to such a nice person.
I can still hear the sound of Beth's voice: "Jenna! Did you hear what your sister just called me? She called me a FAG!"
I started to panic. I hadn't said that! The situation only escalated when I blurted out: "NO I DIDN'T! I SAID SHE WAS FAT!!!!!"
I don't really recall what followed. I suppose I've blocked it out. My point is, although this particular episode is on the list of things I will undoubtedly feel guilty about until the day I die, I never, ever uttered the F word. My parents didn't go for that kind of thing.
Unbeknownst to me, I'd first been exposed to gay people at a young age. In elementary school, my best friend had a very cool aunt who had an even cooler female roommate. They lived together, just like Laverne and Shirley. They had two guy friends, Gary and Bob, who were always around. (Lenny and Squiggy?) I assumed Gary and Bob were their boyfriends, though I could never really figure out which girl went with which boy.
On special occasions, I'd be invited to go along with my friend and her parents up to her aunt's house. Much to my delight, these Saturday barbecues would inevitably morph into an endless dance party, right there in the living room! There I'd be, collar flipped up, home perm bouncing, dancing enthusiastically to Madonna, George Michael, and songs that posed questions like, "Won't you take me to, Funky Town?"
It would be years before I learned that they were gay. I remember being surprised when my Mom casually mentioned it to me, having assumed I already knew. At the time, I even stammered, "But, but, what about Gary and Bob? Weren't they their boyfriends?
Oh. Gary and Bob were each other's boyfriends. It did make sense.
Soon after, I step-ball-changed my way into the world of community theater, and then attended a college for music, dance and theater, where boys dressing in drag was practically a social prerequisite. I had a blast. (Did I mention I was elected Queen my Senior year?)
I'd come from a high school where the only gay student (a sweet, artistic, handsome kid) stressed about attending our graduation for fear someone would call him something he didn't want his mother to hear. I was delighted to be in such an open minded college environment.
Having been raised by my parents in what I now recognize as a kind of idealistic bubble, I will always find it upsetting when I learn that someone is homophobic. Especially infuriating to me is when God is brought into the equation. (This really gets my granny panties in a bunch.)
And that is why, when I hear someone utter a homophobic slur, for all intents and purposes they might have just informed me that they are chainsaw wielding, satanic psychopaths. Such is my disappointment and shock.
My internal organizer files the ugly information away in a mental filing cabinet, to be extracted when the homophobic in question does something "wrong." As in, so it's ok for them to do or say x, y, or z, yet gay marriage is a sin. Most of the time I don't even consciously realize I'm doing this.
I can appreciate the irony here. I'm judging people for being judgmental. I'm sure there's a more enlightened, tolerant way to feel, but so far I haven't felt it yet. (You are welcome to judge me for it.)
XOXO
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