The election was a week ago today. And since then, I have been feeling depressed, scared, sad, and so many other emotions. I have spent the past few days checking in on some friends while avoiding others. I have also seen posts on social media from people who don’t understand our emotions. Well, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can tell you my story and how this impacts me.
When I was young, I knew I was different. I didn’t
understand it, and I didn’t have a word for it or even any context. But I knew.
I also knew that I had to keep it a secret. Not like I knew something I wasn’t
supposed to talk about. It was instinctual, like I had to keep it a secret to
survive.
I didn’t hear the word gay or faggot until I hit middle
school and then they seemed to be the only thing anyone called me. I didn’t
even know what the words meant, but the tone of voice told me it wasn’t good.
There was also nobody to ask. Again, instinctually, I knew I had to keep it to
myself. I was teased, bullied, beat up, all for something I wasn’t fully aware
of and didn’t understand. Everyone else seemed to live in a world I didn’t. I
was different. I hadn’t done anything. I wouldn’t have known what to do if the
opportunity presented itself. I had no self-esteem. I just wanted to be
invisible and left alone.
Just about the time I started to realize that maybe I was
gay, people started dying of AIDS. And before I had even my first real kiss,
sex with another man meant death. At church and home, I heard over and over
that I was an abomination, destined for hell. They didn’t say it to me
directly, but that is what they said about gay people and well, I was becoming
more and more aware that I was gay.
My sister outed me to my mom, and the next time I spoke to
my mom, she said “I hope you get AIDS and die and go to hell because that is
what you deserve.” I argued that I wasn’t a pedophile, rapist, or serial
killer. She told me that if I was, at least I would be normal. That’s when I
learned that being gay was worse than being those other things. In fact, it
seemed there was nothing worse.
The rest of the world seemed to agree, as nothing at all was
done while 60,000 or so people died of AIDS in the US. I remember hearing
people say that all gay people would be shipped off to an island where we could
give each other AIDS and die. That would take care of the problem. It was a
“gay cancer,” and God’s will. There was no way around it, I was not welcome or
wanted. It made no difference what kind of person I was. I was hated because of
what I did in the privacy of my bedroom. “Silence = Death” seemed to be
everywhere as we struggled just to get someone, anyone, to care that people
were dying. And many of them, dying alone, kicked out of their families, and
deserted by “friends.”
As a result of all of this, I had a ton of internalized
homophobia. I was gay, and I hated being gay. I spent my life living in fear. Was
I saying the wrong thing? Standing the wrong way? Scared I would react if
someone mentioned the name of the boy I had a crush on. As an adult, I always
had to have stories ready – What did I do over the weekend? Who was I with? Who
did I like? I had to be careful not to let an “I love you” slip out when
talking on the phone to my partner in case someone heard. I lived two
completely different lives. Each of them kind of me, but neither of them really
me.
All I wanted was to be “normal” and be able to walk down the
street holding someone’s hand and not be in danger. I wanted the freedom to
talk about my life at work the way everyone else did and not worry about being
alienated or fired. I wanted the life my straight friends and family had, but
that I would never be allowed to have. I wanted the government and media to
stop talking about my sex life, who I should be able to love or marry, and
whether I should even be legal.
By 21, I knew that I would not live to be 30. The odds were
against me, as it seemed, the rest of the world was too. From where I stood, to
be gay meant to die, because that was what I deserved. It was God’s punishment
for me being gay. And the well-meaning friends and family who told me they
loved me, they just didn’t approve of my lifestyle, didn’t help.
I was in my 20s when I first became aware of gay pride. I
didn’t like it. I wanted nothing to do with it. I didn’t understand why gay
people needed to go out and have a parade because they were gay. I wanted to be
invisible and just exist, and the people in gay pride parades wanted everyone
to see them. It made me uncomfortable. I was both jealous and terrified.
Why gay pride? Because in so many places in the US, gay
people are discriminated against, threatened with violence, and killed. It’s
because there are politicians who want to remove our right to be married, our
access to healthcare, and in some cases, even make it illegal to be gay. Books
with gay characters get banned. Movies about gay people get boycotted. Children
are kicked out of their homes and shunned by friends. They are abandoned and
shamed by the very people shouting about family values and Christian love. If
we hold hands in public, we are shoving our lives down people’s throats, and
our marriages to decades-long partners are seen as harming the sanctity of
marriage, while straight people can marry and divorce as they want, and nobody
says anything. Just a few examples that I have personally faced. And those
types of actions lead many teens and even older gay people to dangerous
behaviors, depression, and suicide. I went through a phase of wanting to die
instead of being gay. And I’m sure there are people in the world who would have
preferred that.
Throughout my adult life, I could always look back and see
that progress was being made. There was always movement forward. Maybe the
tiniest bit, maybe quite a lot, but it was always forward. We were able to have
benefits for partners, adopt children, and get married. It was like we were
real people after all. Sure, some people thought I shouldn’t have those things,
but they seemed to be in the minority. I was certain I had the support of my
friends and family.
But that doesn’t seem to be the case. I understand that we
live in a democracy where we all have the right to vote for who we want. I am
all for that. For years, we have been hearing about rights being taken away. I
would bring this up to friends and family who didn’t want to talk “politics.”
Well, it’s not politics, it’s my life. It’s my marriage, my family, my son, my
healthcare, my rights. And the fact that people who say they love me vote for
people who have been outspoken about their willingness and mission to take away
my rights, to make me less of a person, less of a citizen, and treat me as
though I do not matter, makes me feel so sad and alone. It makes me feel hated.
For the first time, I can see us moving backward. I don’t
know what’s going to happen in January. But if even only a fraction of the GOP’s
promises and goals get implemented, it is going to be catastrophic for so many
people. They have never hidden their intentions, and yet, so many voted for
them and intentionally voted against me and my family. Have they even thought
about where this all goes? Let’s say LGBTQ rights are completely wiped out. Who
is next? People of color? Women? Non-Christians? And have no doubt, someone
will be next.
There is a vindictive part of me that wants to tell everyone
who voted against me and my rights that I hope I can return the favor someday,
but the truth is, I would never vote against anyone’s rights. And this is not
about gay or trans rights, it is about basic human rights. Once they get taken
away for one group, they can get taken away for anyone.
