I’ve never really taken the time to write about anything really serious, unless it’s been mandated by a professor or some other authority figure. And since my hand has always been forced, most of the serious stuff I’ve written has been absolute shit. I’m not saying this won’t be shit; it may be awful. But I consider it my little contribution to the gay rights movement, as small and helpless as it may seem.
I once took a college poetry course and turned in “The Ballad of Peanut Butter and Jelly” as my final. It was a riveting free verse describing the never-ending love that exists between them, brought together in marriage by two toasted slices of Whole Wheat. In it, the two condiments had to fight their way through rancid meats and rapidly approaching expiration dates, fridges and freezers, knives and napkins. In the end, the good guys won and enjoyed a whole 30 seconds of marital bliss before being devoured by their maker. My prof wasn’t very appreciative of the whole concept, but I thought it was a fitting metaphor for the union of a man and a woman; just the way “nature” intended.
I don’t understand homophobia. I was raised Catholic, went to Catholic school for 13 years of my life, and still consider myself to be a practicing (albeit poorly) member of the Catholic Church. As such, I was brought up with a slight trepidation when it came to homosexuality. Not that my parents ever said “gays suck” or anything like that; that would never happen, and those (thankfully) aren’t their views. But I’d be lying if I didn’t view homosexuality as pretty weird for most of my pre-adolescent life.
Then I realized something. We’re all weird as fuck. My best friends and I spent the majority of our time in high school attempting to draw penises on every inch of each other’s belongings we could reach. Seriously, by the end of the year my weekly planner was covered in Cowboy Cocks and Flesh-Eating Phalluses, Donkey Dicks and Jumpin’ Johnsons. I could have taught one of those middle school “Getting to Know Your Body” seminars with my class notebooks.
If that isn’t weird, I don’t know what is.
I’m not going to sit here and tell you every gay person deserves to be liked, because the average homosexual, just like any straight person ever, has probably done some pretty shitty things. Judging by the rainbow sticker on the back of her Subaru Forrester, I was rudely cut off by a lesbian on the way to class today, and it rusted my hinges pretty bad. I reserve the right to like or dislike anybody on this Earth that I choose. I don’t like the foreign woman behind me in the lab right this second for describing her day in broken English at the top of her voice. I have very strong negative feelings for the old man who told me I was wasting paper by drying my hands with paper towel today in the bathroom. Not that it matters, but I’m 100% sure he was a heterosexual. I promptly called him a nasty pig and told him to go fuck himself. True story.
No, not every homosexual deserves our unequivocal support and undying admiration. But they do deserve the right to be happy, and the pursuit of that happiness; and denying anyone of any sexual orientation, of any walk of life that right is something I take issue with.
I make gay jokes all the time, in reality and on Twitter; maybe I cross the line sometimes, and for that I sincerely apologize. However I truly hope that’s never misconstrued for sexual bigotry in any way, shape, or form. A quick perusal of my Twitter feed will show you that rarely do I take anything very seriously. Trust me; I make fun of myself more than anybody else.
Someone much wiser and more experienced than myself once said, “Hatred never ceases by hatred in this world. By love alone it ceases; this is eternal law.” That was Goatama the Buddha. I’m not Buddhist, but here’s to hoping that this philosophy mirrors God’s a lot more than the Catholic Church would like us to believe. Concealing our own shortcomings with hatred, open or concealed, toward any person or group is something that we as humans should never align ourselves with.
This issue doesn’t impact me directly. I’m not gay. I don’t have my happiness hinging on the Supreme Court’s decision today. And I may be totally out of line for even writing about this topic at all. But if someone were to write “The Ballad of Peanut Butter and Peanut Butter,” they would have my full support.