I’m sorry if this is posted in the wrong place, but I don’t know where else to put it. It isn’t mundane or pointless by a long shot, but I’m hoping people will share. Please move it if it would be more appropriate elsewhere.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this subject due to the vast number of gay-oriented threads that have been floating around as of late. I am very frustrated by those who are of the opinion that gays don’t deserve the same rights and privileges as the rest of the population simply because they are in the minority, or because they think that a distorted interpretation of the bible makes it so.
I thought that people who “just don’t get it” regarding gay rights issues might benefit by seeing exactly how biased our country is toward gays. I’m sure many of these people don’t know gay people (or don’t know that they know them).If they could hear SPECIFIC incidents of slights, insults, physical attacks, specific legal problems, the whole gamut, maybe they would begin to understand that the issues go far beyond someone’s right to wear a pink tutu in a parade, but are focused on a person’s right to pursue happiness the same way the majority of the country does.
I hope this isn’t painful or inappropriate for any of the gay folks around here. If it is, you have my sincere apologies. It is my intent to educate people and hopefully bring some understanding to this issue. Also, since we are talking about civil rights as opposed to biblical interpretation, I think it would better serve the purpose of this thread to speak from a strictly legal (constitutional) standpoint.
I’m not gay, and I don’t have a cite for it, but I’m told that this is one of the incidents which led to Vermont’s law “gay marriage law” passing.
There was a male homosexual couple who had been living together as partners for many years when one died. When he did, his family, from whom he’d been estranged for many years stepped in and his partner had no legal rights. I forget the details of the story, but, after he was buried, his family had his body moved, and his partner had no legal standing to find out where he was buried.
In addition to the stories which I’m sure will be coming in about long-time partners not being allowed to visit each other in the hospital and people losing custody of their children, it’s stories like this which make me quite definitely for so-called “gay rights.”
This isn’t normally something that I talk about but it happened to me in the mid 90s.
Ok, background information first. At the time I was in college, living with a lover in a fairly decent apartment complex. We never did anything out there in public. We only kissed inside or at other appropriate places (like the gay bars). And for the most part neither of us at the time were very flamboyant. I had a pride sticker on the back of my car but that was about it. Also, the apartment complex had a decent sized gay occupancy the area. It seems to have been maybe 1 in 20 or 25 households there had at least one openly gay person.
The one attempted gaybashing incident that ever happened to me was at my apartment complex. I was checking my mail and two thug children (older teenagers, maybe 14 to 16 years old judging by the size of them) were nearby. I didn’t pay them any attention until I started walking back to my home. I always stayed more or less to myself there. I assume one or both of the boys had seen the sticker.
They started shouting, “FAG!” and started picking up fairly large rocks (they were actually bits of brick from a building that was under construction near the mailboxes. One hit me on my ankle (still have the scar). I ran home, they chased me some. I managed to jump a fence and hide while they passed me buy shouting “where are you fag! we’re going to kill you!”
When I finally got the courage to peek out and see that they weren’t there anymore I slunk into my apartment pretty humiliated and called the police. The police eventually arrived, they knew who the two boys were. They questioned me. I told them everything, showed them the wound (I went to the doctor after the police came for it since it was bad… Not quite bad enough for stitches though).
When it was all said and done, I told the police I would like to press charges. What the police said basically boiled down to, what for, it was your fault. I wish I remembered exactly what they said but they were obviously very anti-gay and bigoted. Nothing ever happened over it. I didn’t know at the time that the police are supposed to give a carbon of their report and when I called the station later trying to pursue it, they said they didn’t know what I was talking about.
So what is it like? It is like getting beaten up people that sometimes are essentially sanctioned by the authorities (very frequently depending on where you live). To me, it is the modern and somewhat (regionally anyway) socially acceptible form of lynching.
Oh. My. Gawd. That is a terrible story. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I appreciate you sharing it. This is the kind of thing I’m talking about. As long as society continues to dehumanize a portion of the populace, some people will continue to think that it’s OK because it’s not a crime against humanity.
CJ, I think that is probably the saddest part of all…dying alone and having your last wishes ignored by the people who are supposed to love you. I have a friend whose twin brother was gay. He was so afraid of the family’s reaction that he didn’t even tell his own twin he was gay until two weeks before he died. My friend was destroyed by it, as there was no way to make up for lost time.
I was very frequently slammed against lockers. I couldn’t use my own locker because it was an easy target for vandalization. My bookbag got spat on now and then. There were boys who would follow me around in the hallways calling me the entire gamut of names- faggot, dyke, lezzie, you name it.
My freshman year some of the boys around me would frequently talk about how raping lesbians shouldn’t be a sin because lesbians needed to be “taught a lesson.” Most of these boys were in some way associated with the KKK. They kept on talking about it and talking about it. I guess they needed to work up the courage or something, because one day four of them cornered me after school. I’d rather not think about what might have happened if a teacher hadn’t come around and I’d gotten away. They got bored with it in time, but I was mighty twitchy for a long while afterwards.
Not that the teachers tended to care, mind you. If people starting talking about how much they hated queers in class, using “that’s so gay” or what have you, most teachers never said anything. Or they would participate in gaybashing- nothing quite like your social science teacher admitting that he understood why people would want to firebomb gay bars.
And then there’s the more subtle stuff. I’m a Christian, and in my freshman year I was one of the founding members of an after-school Bible study group. A year later I was thrown out of it. That’s not entirely true, actually. At a meeting that I wasn’t present, the group had a debate about if I was going to go to Hell or not for being gay. The majority consensus was yes. When I heard about it- from one of the people who had argued that yes, I was- I decided that they had officially shut the door on me.
This same group of people did not take kindly to Jennifer and I dating. At one point they decided to perform an exorcism on us to cast out our homosexual demons. I can laugh about it now, but it was a horrific experience- nothing like being told that you are a tool of Satan and your girlfriend is a spineless coward that you have corrupted and tempted into your evil lifestyle and you’re going to burn burn burn.
But hey, at least all it took was the threat of a restraining order to leave us alone…
So that’s pretty much the highlights of my gaybashing life since I came out. And people wonder why I was glad to go to college.
I haven’t experienced anything as bad as the other posters here, but I must agree with dorkusmalorkusmafia, the worst part is having the people who are supposed to protect you turn against you.
When I was in high school, a group of boys would harass me. Their harassment got worse, eventually getting physical. When I fought back and stabbed one of them in the arm with a pencil, I was sent to counseling after school. The guys who attacked me were not punished, and I was told that it was my fault because the way I act was “egging them on”- note that at thispoint I was not even out of the closet. I had tried to get the school administration to protect me, I was forced to defend myself and then told I was in the wrong for doing so.
Aside from the customary “smear the queer” games in grade school and high school (which I didn’t participate in anyway … random violence. Why bother?), I wasn’t the subject of much of any gay bashing in high school (I also wasn’t out in high school at all … comes with not knowing I was bi at the time).
The only real gaybashing I’ve been subject to came from when I was doing volunteer work at an after-school center not far from college. Evidently I manifested some sort of homosexual behaviors (these were mostly kids and very young teenagers, so Lord alone knows what they believed to be “gay stuff”) and so the kids started asking me if I was gay.
At the time I was in more of the “anything can be rationally discussed as long as both parties are willing” mindset than I am now. But I made the mistake of thinking the respect I showed those kids by so much as addressing their stereotypes would be returned. Before long it was them asking things like “I bet you suck your daddy’s dick all night long, right? I bet you like that … I bet you …” etc.
And then the kids started throwing stuff. Small sticks, acorns, pine cones, things like that. After a few minutes it graduated to rocks and slightly larger sticks, and at one point this five-year-old boy tried to hurl a tree branch at me. I think it was a combination, for them, of the fun of ganging up on someone and the idea that it was just wrong to be gay.
For a variety of reasons I decided not to get local law enforcement involved (I’d really prefer not to get into it here), and I have not been back. So I guess, in a way, they won. But there’s one less caring volunteer there willing to spend time with kids who don’t like learning a whole lot, and who don’t have a whole lot of positive role models nearby (not that I’d argue I am one, but when compared to some of their parents and siblings, a rabid hyena might be a good role model).
When I was 19, I went to a party, an outdoor party (alcohol and marijuana, bonfire, 15-22 year olds). I was wearing a bright red and gold paisley-print shirt which I thought of as festive but which some other people at the party apparently decided was flagrantly faggy. At one point a couple of guys I knew but not very well started trash-talking and pretend-fighting…it was very obvious that they weren’t at all angry with each other or anything and it was actually sort of funny. I said something about it being too hilly for that kind of thing anyway (we were standing on a sharply inclined shelf en route to the bonfire) and one of them whirled around and hit me hard, twice, and asked me if I wanted to “get involved in this fight”. I apologized and said no, and that seemed to be the end of that.
Went on to the bonfire, drank some beer from the keg, socialized, hung out in various little clusters, had a typical time of it, and then the guy came up to me and apologized to me for hitting me and said “no hard feelings” and held out his hand to shake.
I went to shake his hand and he hit me again and suddenly I was surrounded by four or five other people with flashlights, shining them in my face while the guy who’d hit me started practicing kung fu kicks and punches. They yelled for him to hit me some more and he kept calling me faggot and queer and pansy and stuff like that. I’m no fighter and with flashlights blinding me I could not see him coming, so when he came close I grabbed a leg and upended him so he couldn’t keep hitting and kicking me, and instantly was grabbed from behind by others who held me back while he got to his feet and kicked me some more. I retreated from the flashlights and the taunting and kicks and in my blindness sprawled sideways into a large cholla cactus. They found this very amusing and when I kept going they did not pursue me.
Midway back to my car I stopped and pulled chunks of cactus off where they were adhering to my clothes, then pulled cactus needles out for about an hour.
When I reached my car I found that someone had hit the trunk of the car with a hammer, but no other damage appeared to have been done.
I never really relaxed and had a good time at a large sprawling party ever again.
I usually don’t talk about these things, as I had—generally—a pretty good childhood and a lot of friends, and I do not like people feeling sorry for me. But I do recall . . .
• Getting beaten up at the busstop every morning and having to run home after school.
• Avoiding the gym locker-room at all costs (getting your head slammed into a locker smarts!).
• Walking down the street to hear guys hiss “I’m gonna kill you, faggot” on a pretty regular basis.
• In my early college years, not being able to use the dorm bathroom because “we’re gonna fuckin’ kill you if we find you alone in there” (I had to go cross-campus to shower in the Fine Arts Building bathrooms).
• In my later college years, being blacklisted from appearing in any stage productions, because “your presence onstage would be distracting to the audience and unfair to the other performers” (this from the head of the Theater Department).
• Having a doctor I was seeing for an initial appointment tell me she would call the police if I didn’t get out of her office, beause she doesn’t treat “my kind” (yes, I did file a complaint).
• Hearing a guy I had just started dating joke about how some friends of his killed a trannie and shoved “it’s” body in the trunk of a car (ummm, yes, that was a brief relationship).
• Having friends of mine tell me that another author who writes film books regularly refers to me in public as “that transsexual that writes,” as if we don’t have opposable thumbs (I guess Jan Morris must use her feet to type).
I could go on and on, but I am getting a bit depressed and need a nice cup og tea now . .
Well, again I’m speechless. I wish the RexDarts of the board would come over here and see how the war is won and quit yer yappin’ already —NOT! Eve, I know you don’t want people to feel sorry for you, but I feel sorry for anyone who has to endure that kind of treatment. It’s appalling. I hope this thread puts a face on the issues and opens some eyes around here.
Luckily, I’ve always been a masculine guy and pretty good at sports, so I never had to deal with the “faggot” issue in school.
I was gaybashed in Phoenix, AZ, in December of 1990. I was working at Phantom Ranch in the Grand Canyon at the time, and I, like virtually, all of my coworkers, was a Deadhead (I still am). The Dead were coming to play at Compton Terrace in Phoenix, so as many of us who could be spared from work got tickets and went down for the show. We got into town the night before, so after we hit the hotel and settled down, I went out on my own to look for a gay bar. I found one on McDowell Avenue, went in, had a couple of beers, flirted, and had a good time. When it was time to go, i walked out side, and as soon as I went out the door, I felt a chain on the bakc of my head. I went down and three guys started whaling on me. Luckily, I was able to pull oneof them down and get up. I ran like a bat out iof hell, shouting for help as the three chased me. I saw a 7/11 and ran in, the toughs didn’t pursue. I told the clerk what has happened and he called the cops. He was really kind and supportive, as I was crying and deeply freaked out. The cops came and drove me to the ER, where I had stitiches put in the back of my head where they had chained and kicked me. The three gaybashers were enver caught. I didn;t get a really good look, but what I could tell, short haired and muscular, led me to beleive they were military guys out for a lark. The infuriating thing wasn’t so much the beating, but that it was aimed, not at me, but just at any random gay guy who came out at the wrong time. It just happened to me. I can deal with hating me specifically, but hating me just because I’m being a member of a group still makes me angry.
I had to close my office door and shed a few tears for the victims of hate in this thread…tears of anger and tears of sorrow.
I think I’m going to find a new group of charities to which to donate money.
I don’t want to start an argument, that’s not what this thread or forum is for. How, though, can people who post about never accepting gay people (some even in the name of love or concern) read this thread not have their minds and hearts opened?
I swear, as long as I live, I’ll never, ever understand people
For those who have posted stories in this thread, my heart and thoughts go out to you – those are absolutely horrible experiences to have to go through. It amazes me that people can be that evil and cruel.
A friend of mine (call him Dan) experienced a lot of anti-gay sentiment in high school (northern Illinois, very whitebread town, lots of mullets and acid-washed jeans… essentially the town where the 80’s has never died). During his senior year, he had not yet come out and was keeping his sexuality as much a secret as he could.
In Dan’s Government class, one of the class projects was to pass a law. They would make a mock Senate and House of Representatives, draft a bill, pass it through the two houses, ratify it… actually a pretty cool project. The subject of the law was up to the class. My friend’s classmates decided that the law they would pass would be…
To outlaw homosexuality. (Knowing damn well that Dan was gay.)
It was such a blatant slap in the face. For the three weeks of the project, he came home crying almost every day. For the members of his class to be so cruel to him, and for the teacher to allow it to happen! It was absolutely unbelievable. I’m not sue-happy by any means, but if I were Dan’s parents, that school would have been hit with a lawsuit like they’d never seen before.
(Happy end to the story, though: after graduation, Dan moved to Chicago, is now living in Boystown, has come out and is happier than I’ve ever seen him.)
I have been blessed - the most I’ve had to deal with since being out is some catcalls and miscellaneous harassment. I was almost gaybashed late one night - some acquaintances and I were on a bus when they abruptly started being threatening to me, so I jumped out and ran back to the metro station, which was closed, so I had to walk all alone through not-such-a-good-neighbourhood and take two night buses to get home. I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep that night.
Here’s to my friend Randy - dead at 22 in 1995 (?). They found his burned-out truck the next day, but it took them six months to find his decomposed body by the river. (Thank goodness for dental records, eh?)
I’ve been reasonably lucky. The most that’s happened to me is a (probable) case of discrimination at the headquarters office of a large, Midwestern law firm. I was the first openly gay summer associate, and the firm had no out lawyers at the time. After they mysteriously declined to hire me, they did their best to trash my reputation - I continue to suspect in order to avoid a lawsuit under that state’s then-new gay rights law.
Closest story I know is of a guy here in Chelsea who lost an eye in a bashing ca. 1996. He was jumped by the classic bunch of teenage boys. I have no idea if the perps were caught, identified, or prosecuted.
My lesbian sister lived with a woman for 16 years. They raised four daughters (sister 1, SIL 3), bought a house, opened a business all together. My sister was named the sole beneficiary in her will.
When SIL got sick, my sister could not see her in the hospital or have anything to do with medical and funeral arrangements. The woman’s husband (who had refused to divorce her) and the father of her two youngest daughters went to court to challenger the will, claiming my sister had “turned her lesbian.” When paternity testing revealed that SIL’s oldest daughter was neither of the men’s daughter, the judge immediately ruled that the husband and their son (SIL’s oldest child) were the rightful heirs to the entire estate. My sister got nothing!
And that’s why I am a huge believer in gay rights.
