Hear Me

I'm not after sympathy-I have no need for it. Just hear me.

It hurt to think of coming out to my closest, oldest, and dearest friend, because Christine hated homosexuality as a part of her deep religious convictions.

It felt good when she said that it didn't change a thing between us--then I watched our twelve-year-old friendship silently disappear in weeks.

It felt well when I found out that Melissa had subtly done everything she could to let me know she was comfortable with homosexuality, so that coming out to her would be less frightening.

It hurts when I don't have the courage to be open at school, work, and in social situations.

It felt good to watch how Mike reacted to my coming out. I expected the worst from him, but he didn't change, except to add my homosexuality to the list of topics from which he derives smart-ass comments.

It hurt to sit in class listening to the teacher talk about homosexuals in the third person, never occurring to her how it feels to have someone talk about you like a foreign oddity while looking you in the eyes.

I hated being sick with fear that someone would see how I felt while the teacher talked, and find out my secret.

It hurt like hell to watch a woman, whose love and acceptance I had cherished throughout my childhood, quaking with hate and disgust at the sight of a gay parade on TV.

I love when I tell someone that I'm gay, and it really doesn't matter to them.

It hurt to sit around a table listening to my friends talk with disgust about homosexuals and "their practices."

I hated almost throwing up when I realized I almost told those people.

I hated telling those people.

I'm gay, and I'm not sorry. For the first time in my life, I realize that I have nothing to apologize for.

Used to be I was convinced that sexual orientation was purely genetic--I was comfortable with that because it took the blame off me. I used to think that if I could just make everyone know that homosexuality was genetic, and therefore not a matter of choice, then magically society would learn to accept me. It was a pleasant fantasy, and it took a long time for me to escape it.

Sexual orientation, like any personality trait, can never be attributed solely to one cause. Some men are born jerks- others learn from their parents. Some women are born destined to have big breasts- some get them through the miracle of silicon. People's personalities can be caused or influenced in a thousand different ways. It is possible for one person to be homosexual because of genetics, and another because of social forces, just as it is possible for someone to be born with a genetic predisposition toward obesity, and another to be socialized to overeat. After learning this I was crushed. My perfect solution was a pipe dream. However, this knowledge allowed me to open my mind, and only then did I realize that I had been missing the vital issue entirely.

I had been searching for the cause of homosexuality, hoping that I could use it to convince people not to blame me for being gay. I finally asked myself, "Just what the hell is wrong with being gay?" I have gone through a lot of shit because I'm gay, but no . . . I have gone through a lot of shit because of society's attitude towards homosexuality. All significant detriments to the homosexual lifestyle would vanish if society got its collective head out of its ass.

I am gay. And I am not sorry. But I am angry, and I do still hurt. Nevertheless, life is good- I'll get by. Like I said, I don't need your sympathy.

I used to think it was my responsibility, now I realize it is theirs.

Charles Wardell has been previously published as a columnist in The SJSGS Monthly, and can be reached by using the feedback button, below.

(This column is a think exclusive, and can be found in this space every issue, as well as in the newsprint edition).