Confession: I’m tired of arguing about the meaning of Pride with gay men who owe their freedoms to the “freaks” who’s way of life they deride as shoving their lifestyle in everyone else’s faces. They blame them for holding the “rest of us” back, as if somehow they could re-write history and forget that it was these very freaks who provide the backbone and strength that the rest of “us” rely upon to go about our stealthy ways, blending in with the mainstream.
You know what? I’m one of those freaks. When you mock the drag queens, you mock me. When you hate the leatherman for his assless chaps, you hate me. When you ask, “why can’t they go away?” I’ll withdraw.
You big outdoorsman who’s afraid to come out to your redneck neighbors? They already know about you, dude, and they laugh at you behind your back. You surfer boy who’s “southern values” thinks public nudity is damaging to the children? They’re damaged more by your shame and fear than the sight of my fat ass on the beach.
Your refusal to stand up for yourself and to defend others is why your neighbors and co-workers make fag jokes in your presence. Put the shame back on them, where it belongs. You could carry it around your neck and blame everyone else, or you could grow some balls and shine your light.
I’ll take my drag queen friends and leather neighbors over you and your self-loathing any day of the week. Yet, you’re always invited to come and join the party!
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