Wow, I Haven’t Been Called “Fa**ot” (To My Face) In Years
So there I was, filling a five gallon water bottle with water at one of the many do-it-yourself stands here in Vegas. I had just come from working out and it was 100 degrees out even though the evening sun was setting. I was sort of just sweating and staring out at the traffic mindlessly when out of my peripheral vision I saw something moving. I turned to look and it was a guy riding a bike. I noticed he had ear buds in his ear and didn’t really notice much else, including the yell, “What are you looking at faggot?” It was too late to say anything back because he was all ready down the sidewalk on his no-name bike that appeared too small for his large frame. It was a quick moment that passed and as I got back into my car I thought, “Wow, I haven’t been called ‘faggot’ (to my face) in years” – Don’t Get Me Started!
When you write a blog as I’ve written for this many years you get every comment in the book. You get the people who love you, the people who hate you and even much to my surprise the people that want to date you. I take great pride in the comments people make when they feel as though I have “struck a cord” with them or somehow helped them in some way. How can that not make you feel great? I also love the hate filled, bible quoting tirades people go on when leaving comments. I take great delight that they’re usually misspelled, have bad grammar and really just want to tell me that I’m going to hell and that Jesus would still like to be my friend. Some just tell me to stop doing homosexual “acts” (which always makes me think that they think I’m a Liza impersonator or something in nightclubs, not sex for some reason) and then I’ll be a good person. I love all comments and usually unless I think they’ll be hurtful to my readers, I allow all the comments to stay. Some people ask me why I leave the hate-filled diatribes on. The reason for this is that in most cases the people make themselves look completely ridiculous (and you know I love that) but I also realize that when you put yourself in the public eye that it isn’t always the most glamorous or smartest eye that is viewing you. If that eye is a small dim lit room filled with the glow of a twelve inch monitor on a snack tray with sixteen cats at their feet and Cheetohs stained fingers, you have to realize that it’s them with the problem not you and allow yourself to take the good with the bad.
As a kid I was called, “faggot” every day in school for the entire time I was there, sometimes several times in the same day. I have even been called it in my adult life (but not in years and have never associated with gay people who use it with one another either) so when this incident happened I couldn’t really get my head around what I was hearing nor how I was feeling. The word is a word designed to denigrate the person it’s hurled at, make them feel “less than” or awful but Christ, I’m in my forties and I left all of that self-doubt and any self loathing years ago in an airport in Cleveland (I think it was Cleveland, can’t be sure, who can remember?). What I’m trying to say is that the word holds absolutely no power over me whatsoever anymore. So should I have hurled back a comment like, “No, you’re the faggot!” or perhaps, “I may be a faggot but I’m not interested in you, loser.” Neither of those seems like the right choice and in fact the more I thought about it the more I realized that it didn’t really even require a response from me. I wouldn’t have felt as though I was “fighting back” because I don’t feel I have anything to fight about with a thirty year old riding a bike that looks as though it was designed for a six year old. What would I achieve by even getting close to engaging him in a conversation or battle of dare I call them “wits” when I was clearly the only one equipped with those in this case? I can’t change his mind I don’t care enough about him to even try. Does this make me less of a crusader for gay rights? I don’t think so. I think that what this experience did was just remind me that yes there are still people out there who use this word and think they’re hurting you with it. No surprise there. The only real surprise was that I felt nothing. (Not to be too Morales from A Chorus Line) Wow, I haven’t been called ‘faggot’ (to my face) in years – Don’t Get Me Started!
Read More Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com