Recently, several people have asked the question: “Oh, but everything is way better now for gay people, right?” It’s usually phrased as a rhetorical question, that they are sure the response is “So much better! Yes. 100%.” (It’s heterosexual people who say this, obviously).
And then I take a deep breath, a sip of my beer if I’m fortunate enough to have one in front of me, and respond, “Sure it’s a bit better than say, ten-plus years ago.”
I go on to share that it’s not better in many religious communities, not better in many rural or southern communities. (An example of the dichotomy: same-sex marriage was legalized in Massachusetts only a few years after gay sex was decriminalized in Texas). Homelessness and suicide, for example, have frighteningly higher rates among LGBTQ+ people. I tell them how much power the church community still has over people’s lives, particularly youth, many of which still disapprove of “practicing homosexuality.” Even in progressive cities like Boston, there are enough people to form a “Straight Pride Parade ” and get the approvals to close downtown streets for the event. In Columbus last month, neo-Nazis protested a Pride event for at-risk youth, armed with guns and banners that threaten, There will be blood.
Queer people are still targeted. Queer people are scared – and we have a right to be. People continue to hate us. Even though we can legally get married doesn’t mean that everything is checked off of our gay agenda.
We still face issues, even now, even in Columbus (which my mother once called my “liberal cocoon”). Columbus boasts a high population of queer folks, and though we have found a great community here, some people aren’t ready to accept us. Last fall, I was trying to get my flu shot at CVS Pharmacy, while I was a dependent on my wife’s health insurance. There were issues getting my flu shot to be covered by insurance, and the pharmacist kept referring to my wife as my “fiancée” or better yet, hoping her colleagues would hear just “fiancé.”
When she gave me updates on coverage, each time she refused to say wife, and each time I corrected her. I wonder if that was the issue, that by denying to accept me as a spouse, she was incorrectly listing me as my insurance coverage. This woman’s bigotry impacted my health; I wasn’t able to get my flu shot, despite my insurance representative on the phone assuring me it should be covered (fortunately, I had options to take my business elsewhere to get vaccinated).
Just a few weeks ago, we encountered a homophobe at the dog park. We live in a pretty progressive area, decently diverse, with dozens of pride flags in our neighborhood. A man was walking around the dog park smoking a cigarette, and my wife and I rolled our eyes at him blatantly breaking the rules. He held a phone in one hand, talking loudly, the cigarette in the other. Suddenly, and with plenty of people in view, he pulled out the front of his sweatpants and peaked inside. My wife and I exchanged disgusted glances. When we glanced up again, the cigarette was gone.
“Hey, man, where’d you put your cigarette?” my wife asked nervously. One cigarette butt has enough nicotine to make a dog sick, and can even be fatal to small dogs.
“None of your fucking business,” he responded.
“You’re a piece of shit; you’re littering in a dog park.” People turned to watch the drama unfold.
“No, YOU are a piece of shit,” he shot back, like a defensive and whiney ten-year-old. He started walking towards us and I found myself wondering if, instead of examining his balls, he had been checking to make sure his concealed-carry gun remained in place.
He didn’t slow down as he neared us and kept walking towards the other side of the dog park. He spat “dyke” at us as he passed.
“Yeah, I am a dyke, good one,” my wife responded without missing a beat. I told her I loved her response; it showed pride in who she is but also made the homophobe who tried to insult her look like an absolute idiot in front of everyone. “Well, I’m wearing chacos, athletic shorts and a Rapinoe soccer jersey. I’m clearly not trying to hide anything,” she laughed. We both tried to joke about it, but were still pretty shaken up.
We went to find the cigarette butt; it was lying in the grass of the dog park, still lit. My wife stomped it out and collected it with a doggie poop bag.
She reported him to the park ranger for endangering the dogs, and while we kept half an eye on the homophobic and negligent dog owner, several dog parents thanked my wife for confronting him. We lingered until the homophobe left. We didn’t want him to know which car was ours. It’s the people who use hateful speech, or speech they think is hateful, that also cause physical harm to those who are different.
The next time we went to the dog park, we found ourselves anxiously looking out for his white pick-up truck.
Even among queer allies, the culture of place is impactful, particularly with children. Despite my sister being supportive and accepting when I came out, and ever since, welcoming my wife as family, her community impacts her children. We can forget that youth are at school almost as much as they are at home. We don’t always consider the other influencers – school teachers, peers, parents of our children’s friends, coaches, babysitters, and for teenagers, colleagues and bosses at part-time jobs, the list goes on. In reality, we have so little influence. I say “we” not as a parent, but as a daughter perceiving how my parents felt. As a child, I understood that being gay was a sin, was wrong. I do not know or recall how I came to hold this belief, whether from a friend, or at school, or a parent of a friend. Quite possibly, in the Buckle of the Bible Belt, it was all of the above. Fortunately, I aired my concerns to my mother, who stamped them out of my mind, telling me that gay people do not choose to be gay and that God made them that way. This belief was quite revolutionary for the mid-90’s in East Tennessee, but it transformed my understanding and beliefs which carried me throughout my childhood.
My sister, a republican living in a small city in Tennessee, was someone I hesitated to come out to. I admired and adored her growing up, to the point perhaps of idolizing her. When she left for college, I missed her and longed for her company. Her visits were precious to me. While apart, I grew to be more progressive, more liberal in my beliefs after leaving my parents’ house; my sister moved the opposite way, but being conservative did not impact her support of me and my marriage, and she has always been vocal with her children about her aunts.
She wants her children to be open-minded. She wants them to be accepting of their gay aunts and future gay friends. She wants to normalize it, but something so obvious to her may not be to my niece and nephew. So when my sister shares the details of my wedding, my niece responds, shocked, “Girls can marry girls?”
My sister, sharing this to me on the phone, mortified, says, “I feel like I have failed!” So what is right? Is normalizing gay marriage simply not mentioning it, because it should not be any different? Or do we need to mention it constantly to our kids so that they understand that gay marriage is real and lawful, just like heterosexual marriage? How often should we discuss the experience of gay people in America to ensure a better experience for those in my niece and nephew’s generation?
We cannot say that “everything is better now” for the queer community until kids understand it’s possible for women to marry women, until a boy in school feels safe bringing a boy to a school dance, until kids stop hearing hateful things about gay people in their schools. We cannot say “everything is better” when doctors and pharmacists are protected from refusing to treat queer people, when kids in school are shamed for talking about being gay, or when two lesbians feel unsafe at their local dog park.
J.C. Thrash 