"Faggots go to hell!" Those are the words that were screamed at me and my partner last night as we left the fair grounds. Granted, compared to what others have seen and been through, compared to what else is out there, it's a little thing. Still, it got under my skin and I guess I'm writing this to get it off my chest.
Now, just to set the scene for you, I am not, to most people, easily recognizable as gay. I grew up in the hills of Arkansas, and I have a thick country accent and very few mannerisms that readily out me. To give you an idea how bad it is, my partner last night declared that he needed "another gay man's advice" on a shirt and so turned and asked my best friend's girlfriend her opinion on it. My partner though is, shall we say, easy to identify (he admits this). Add to that the fact we were walking back from the fair with a big stuffed dolphin that the dog would spend all night cowering in fear of (I have no idea why he wanted that damn thing!) and it was fairly easy to tell we were a couple I guess.
So this jackass sitting on his car bumper hollers the aforementioned verbal garbage at us. For once, I was dumbfounded as to what to say or do back. My partner snapped back "You first!", though I'm not sure he did so loud enough for this guy to hear it as we got in the car and left.
Now really, this shouldn't have gotten to me I guess. It's irritating, but nothing to stew over. I guess it bothers me in part because I've been lucky enough not to get too much of that stuff coming my way (the worst I've heard until now was a deacon's lecture which he was careful to phrase in the nicest possible way). Another part of it was that my boyfriend was there, and it really got the protective instincts roaring to life. But I also think part of it was that I spend a great deal of my time reassuring my boyfriend that no matter how much of that uglyness is out there, most people are better than that and that, in time, the good in the world always overcomes the bad.
Which brings me to the next thing that happened. I texted my best friend, Joe, a big, straight, muscular, former football player with a reasonably bad temper amd the strength to back it up with and told him what had happened. Joe texted back one word:
"where"
Not a question; a statement. In Joe's language it translates to "I'm going to ground that little bastard into the pavement when I find him." After assuring him there was no need for that, it dawned on me just how lucky I am...and just how right I am about this issue. Most of my friends are, by their own admision, big straight rednecks. A lot of them had problems with gay people before I came out. But last night one of those guys was foaming at the mouth because someone had dared to say something so asanine to me and my boyfriend. So I guess what I'm trying to say here is that, as ugly as hatred is and as much worse as it can be, there's still reason to believe in the good that's fighting it. If my big macho buddies can go from being homophobes to defenders of their gay friends, trust me, there's hope.
Update [2009-9-27 23:9:18 by ARDem]: Wow, my little diaries never make it to the rec list. Thanks a million guys.