What a thread.
I must say, I would never have known what it was like to be the target of such irrational hatred - except that it happened to me.
I should start by saying that I am not gay. I am in fact happily married, and straight. However, almost twenty years ago, five drunk college goons in a car must have thought I was gay - because they did their level best to beat me up for this “crime”.
I was waiting, partly drunk and stoned, for a night bus at the time - alone, at around 1 am (the street was quite busy with cars, but few people were out walking). I see this car crammed with drunken idiots go by, and think nothing of it … then the car circles the block and comes back. This time, the windows were open and beer bottles were thrown at me, to the accompanyment of a rousing chorus of “die, fag! we’re gonna kill you, fag!”. None hit, but I certainly was getting nervous.
The car circled the block again, and came right up and stopped - one of the goons got out (the rest for reasons known only to themselves stayed in the car). Goon number one yelled, “I’m gonna fuck you, fag!” (which I thought a very strange thing to say). This fine fellow aimed a swing at my head, which caught me on the ear, which stung but otherwise was surprisingly ineffectual (he was a big lout but very drunk) - I just pushed at his chest and he tripped over the curb and fell on his ass. Dispite my fear I was thinking “this is more like a Laurel and Hardy routine than I fight” when the four other goons started to get out of the car - and they had baseball bats.
I decided this was not a healthy place to linger, and ran for it - right into the middle of the road. It was lucky for me that I did. I highly recommend this strategy. I stood on the center line, while cars whizzed by - and the goons were obviously reluctant to follow me there. No doubt they felt that beating me on the sidewalk was one thing, but beating me in the middle of a busy road was bound to attract attention.
This standoff was ended by the timely arrival of my bus. Amazingly, even after I got on, the idiots still followed the bus, yelling obscenities and waving fists and bats. The driver very kindly wrote down their license plate number, the make of car, etc. and called the cops on his radio (I have nothing but praise for this driver’s actions). By the time the cops showed up, these guys were of course long gone.
The story has a happy ending in one sense - I was not in fact hurt, other than a thick ear. But I easily could have been. Less happily, the cops phoned a couple of days later to say that the license number did not match the make of car, so they would not make charges. I knew this was bullshit - I could tell by the cop’s voice. It was a nice car, so I am guessing that it was borrowed from “daddy” who was someone rich, and the cops told “daddy” but did not want to press the matter further - especially when “the fag” (meaning myself) had not actually come to harm.
What I remember most about the incident was how very, very angry I was - more so I think than scared (though I was plenty scared). How dare those punks attack me for no reason or their own entertainment? Bastards. Secondly, I remember how abjectly humiliating it was to have to run from those rat-bastards. I felt somehow that it was cowardly to let them push me around like that - though I knew thinking this way was pure idiocy (I am a reasonably large guy, but have zero experience fighting, and if I had stuck around I would no doubt have been killed).
For months afterwards, I carried around a cannister of pepper spray. I would have gotten a handgun, if they were available. Though thinking about it in retrospect, it is a good thing I didn’t have one at the time - I can fully see the temptation to use one, I was so scared and angry I would have shot them down. Which would be unfortunate, for me.
Anyway, every time I read about gay-bashing I think - that was me.
