Tonight, something happened that has forced me to evaluate my standing in the bubble in which I live. Mind you, tonight's event was not the first time I have been forced to see life and my placement in it, but it was the catalyst to make me want to change my standing.
I was at some friends' apartment and we were just sitting around hanging out. One of my friends received a text saying their other friends, co-workers, were coming over. The other friend told me that I wasn't going to get along with one of the people that was coming over, so we should go somewhere else; however, I like to think I am a tolerant person. I was wrong unfortunately.
It all started out just fine, but then the phrase that makes me angry was thrown around; "That's so gay" was used one time too many and I got up and put my shoes one. I walked toward the door and said, "Ya'll need to realize that there are gay people in the world." I opened the door and slammed it behind me.
I should have listened to my friend when he told me I wasn't going to get along with their other friends. However, as I thought about it, I was brought to the conclusion that my energy and those two people's energies needed to meet. We needed to come together and clash. My outburst needed to happen because they were not taking into account the many different kinds of people that exist. They weren't taking into account that saying "that's so gay" is derogatory and hurtful. Although it is a colloquial way of saying something is stupid, it is substituting the way a person identifies themselves for something that someone considers stupid or dumb. Those two men needed to understand that and I needed to stand up and say something.
I have stood by for much of my life, being the whipping boy. I have stood quietly as other students have called me fag, faggot, queer and, yes, gay. I have refused to be confrontational and, in refusing to stand up, have simply continued on in my role and my standing as the whipping boy. I have refused to say anything to my family, to my friends, to co-workers, and to complete strangers. In doing so, I have refused to stand up and say that I am equal. I am more than just a joke. I am more than a homosexual. I am more than the man you see (or don't see, as is the case with my blog) standing before you and wanting to be noticed. I am more than skin and bones. I am more than just emotion. I am more.
In my life with my family, now, my life consists of work and solely that. I used to be a student and, therefore, they were able to add one aspect to my life to the small talk when they asked how I was doing. I remember a time, quite vividly, when I went with my little brother to see my grandma. We were sitting in the living room of her apartment near the St. George temple. Stephen sat in one chair and I sat in another. Grandma turned to me and asked me, "How is work?" and then followed it up with, "How is school?" After I responded, she turned directly to my little brother and said, "How is dating life? Are you dating anybody new?"
It was a direct slap in the face. I knew that my life would never be the same the day I told my family I was gay, but I didn't know that knowledge of my life would be limited to work and school. I didn't realize I would never be asked about people I was dating. I didn't realize I would become a second class member of our family.
When I was visiting my brother and his family in Eagle Mountain, we were contemplating watching a TV series with James Roday in it. One of my nieces came up to me and said, "Micah, do you know James Roday?" I told her that I knew of him. She then asked me if the actor was dating his co-star, the female detective. I told her that I wasn't sure, but that I didn't think so. She then got a serious look on her face. She said, "Is he --?" I knew what she wanted to ask me, but waited for her to finish her question. She looked at her feet, stomped and said, "Is He G-A-Y?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word. I told her that I didn't know, but then said, "You know, you can say the word." She told me she couldn't bring herself to say it and she had a look of disgust on her face. It hurt.
I know she is still very young. But I also know she knows what is going on in the world. I know she knows what the LDS church teaches their congregations about homosexuality and about being tolerant of us. However, I know the feeling she is feeling towards gay people because at one time in my life, I felt the same way. It took me years of realizing for myself who I am and learning to love myself rather than hate myself that I could understand life.
I try to understand the reasoning behind my family not wanting to know about my dating men, but my understanding does nothing to soften the blow in the moments when I am reminded of my status within the family social grouping. I am reminded in these moments that I am second class. I am reminded of my path to hell in their eyes. I am reminded that because I am gay, I will be separated, per their beliefs, in the life to come; they will be in the Celestial kingdom of heaven and I don't know where I will be. I will have a second class status in the afterlife as well.
I understand that, living in Utah Valley and Utah state, I am second class. I am an outcast. I am a black sheep. I understand people don't understand homosexuality except in the context the Bible has given to them to understand it as a sin and an abomination. I understand that, because of that naivety and that lack of understanding and tolerance, the people have a hard time seeing that people that are unlike them exist. Because of this lack of knowledge, they make comments that offend and hurt, and, though their comments may not be of the intent to hurt, it does not negate the fact that it still does hurt.
Tonight, however, I am deciding to take a stand on being silent and refusing to let the world (and myself) see me and other homosexual people as a second class citizen. I am refusing to let people use "that's so gay" in place of something that is meant to mean stupid. I am standing up for me and people like me. I will not be a second class family member and I will not be a second class citizen. I will stand up and I will say, "I am here too."
I don't deserve to feel second class anymore and neither does anyone else in the world. We are equal and we should treat each other as equals. Abraham Lincoln said, in the Gettysburg Address, "Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal." Let us not treat our neighbors, friends, family members, or complete strangers as second class citizens because "all men are created equal." Namaste.
I was at some friends' apartment and we were just sitting around hanging out. One of my friends received a text saying their other friends, co-workers, were coming over. The other friend told me that I wasn't going to get along with one of the people that was coming over, so we should go somewhere else; however, I like to think I am a tolerant person. I was wrong unfortunately.
It all started out just fine, but then the phrase that makes me angry was thrown around; "That's so gay" was used one time too many and I got up and put my shoes one. I walked toward the door and said, "Ya'll need to realize that there are gay people in the world." I opened the door and slammed it behind me.
I should have listened to my friend when he told me I wasn't going to get along with their other friends. However, as I thought about it, I was brought to the conclusion that my energy and those two people's energies needed to meet. We needed to come together and clash. My outburst needed to happen because they were not taking into account the many different kinds of people that exist. They weren't taking into account that saying "that's so gay" is derogatory and hurtful. Although it is a colloquial way of saying something is stupid, it is substituting the way a person identifies themselves for something that someone considers stupid or dumb. Those two men needed to understand that and I needed to stand up and say something.
I have stood by for much of my life, being the whipping boy. I have stood quietly as other students have called me fag, faggot, queer and, yes, gay. I have refused to be confrontational and, in refusing to stand up, have simply continued on in my role and my standing as the whipping boy. I have refused to say anything to my family, to my friends, to co-workers, and to complete strangers. In doing so, I have refused to stand up and say that I am equal. I am more than just a joke. I am more than a homosexual. I am more than the man you see (or don't see, as is the case with my blog) standing before you and wanting to be noticed. I am more than skin and bones. I am more than just emotion. I am more.
In my life with my family, now, my life consists of work and solely that. I used to be a student and, therefore, they were able to add one aspect to my life to the small talk when they asked how I was doing. I remember a time, quite vividly, when I went with my little brother to see my grandma. We were sitting in the living room of her apartment near the St. George temple. Stephen sat in one chair and I sat in another. Grandma turned to me and asked me, "How is work?" and then followed it up with, "How is school?" After I responded, she turned directly to my little brother and said, "How is dating life? Are you dating anybody new?"
It was a direct slap in the face. I knew that my life would never be the same the day I told my family I was gay, but I didn't know that knowledge of my life would be limited to work and school. I didn't realize I would never be asked about people I was dating. I didn't realize I would become a second class member of our family.
When I was visiting my brother and his family in Eagle Mountain, we were contemplating watching a TV series with James Roday in it. One of my nieces came up to me and said, "Micah, do you know James Roday?" I told her that I knew of him. She then asked me if the actor was dating his co-star, the female detective. I told her that I wasn't sure, but that I didn't think so. She then got a serious look on her face. She said, "Is he --?" I knew what she wanted to ask me, but waited for her to finish her question. She looked at her feet, stomped and said, "Is He G-A-Y?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word. I told her that I didn't know, but then said, "You know, you can say the word." She told me she couldn't bring herself to say it and she had a look of disgust on her face. It hurt.
I know she is still very young. But I also know she knows what is going on in the world. I know she knows what the LDS church teaches their congregations about homosexuality and about being tolerant of us. However, I know the feeling she is feeling towards gay people because at one time in my life, I felt the same way. It took me years of realizing for myself who I am and learning to love myself rather than hate myself that I could understand life.
I try to understand the reasoning behind my family not wanting to know about my dating men, but my understanding does nothing to soften the blow in the moments when I am reminded of my status within the family social grouping. I am reminded in these moments that I am second class. I am reminded of my path to hell in their eyes. I am reminded that because I am gay, I will be separated, per their beliefs, in the life to come; they will be in the Celestial kingdom of heaven and I don't know where I will be. I will have a second class status in the afterlife as well.
I understand that, living in Utah Valley and Utah state, I am second class. I am an outcast. I am a black sheep. I understand people don't understand homosexuality except in the context the Bible has given to them to understand it as a sin and an abomination. I understand that, because of that naivety and that lack of understanding and tolerance, the people have a hard time seeing that people that are unlike them exist. Because of this lack of knowledge, they make comments that offend and hurt, and, though their comments may not be of the intent to hurt, it does not negate the fact that it still does hurt.
Tonight, however, I am deciding to take a stand on being silent and refusing to let the world (and myself) see me and other homosexual people as a second class citizen. I am refusing to let people use "that's so gay" in place of something that is meant to mean stupid. I am standing up for me and people like me. I will not be a second class family member and I will not be a second class citizen. I will stand up and I will say, "I am here too."
I don't deserve to feel second class anymore and neither does anyone else in the world. We are equal and we should treat each other as equals. Abraham Lincoln said, in the Gettysburg Address, "Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal." Let us not treat our neighbors, friends, family members, or complete strangers as second class citizens because "all men are created equal." Namaste.
No comments:
Post a Comment