Once upon a time, I was a dyed-in-the-wool Activist. I would meet with leaders and lawmakers to try and make them see things in a way they had never seen them. I fought for equality and rights. I marched. I rallied. I protested. Often it was at the top of my lungs, demanding to be heard. Screaming and fighting go hand-in-hand, and believe you-me, it was a fight. Sometimes the point was to make a scene simply so there would be witnesses, the hope being that collective conscience would win the day and, with all eyes on them, the nemeses would crumble to the ground and reveal bright, shining new allies. Sometimes the point was to make someone see that a life-or-death situation really was life-or-death, not just an imagined danger looming ever on the horizon.
And I was fully aware then, too, of how "easy" I had it. There were men and women who fought for my rights TO fight - hell, to LIVE. Some gave their lives, others were taken. A plague had been allowed to ravage my people just a decade and a half before, and people who watched more friends die in six years than I had yet made in the world continued the fight and the message. There was a time when there were more memories than there were warriors. The very fact that I had "allies" was my advantage over my predecessors.
In those days, the fight was different. We could no longer be fired for being gay, but we could still be denied a job. We could identify as gay, but we could not assemble on school or government property under a "gay" name. We could teach abstinence in school, but we had to learn the do's and don'ts of gay sex and safe sex on our own time - often by painful trial-and-error. We could still be labeled as "sex offenders" simply by dating someone whose parents weren't supportive of the relationship. We spent our time begging movies and TV and books and the media in general to show gay people as loving, respected couples rather than lonely, predatory comic relief. I remember Ellen coming out on TV. I remember the first gay kiss on prime time. I remember how it felt, for the first time, to be visible.
In that time, I said and did a lot of offensive things. I kissed men and women I didn't know in front of strangers. I dressed provocatively in an amalgam of men's and women's clothing at an age that was probably "too young." I fought to wear a pink triangle badge on my shirt when we did Cabaret, to remind the audience it wasn't just the Jews who knew the horrors of genocide. I wrote hyper-sexual poetry that used curse words and racial slurs and epithets. I nearly sued the school board for the right to have the word "gay" in the name of a school-sanctioned club. I made. A LOT. Of people. Very angry.
And I can even remember the very moment I decided I was no longer an Activist. It was when I attended an on-campus meeting of a so-called "activist" group made up of a dozen cisgendered white people. The discussion revolved around the rights of bicyclists to ride in the MIDDLE of a lane on the HIGHWAY, rather than on the shoulder. I stated that if I were driving on a winding road and was faced with the split-second decision to hit a bicyclist in my lane or hit an oncoming car, I would WITHOUT QUESTION hit the bicyclist. I was literally screamed at for fifteen minutes before the group decided we should picket outside of taco bell because they underpaid their tomato farmers in Hawaii. I was asked not to join (which was actually more a relief than anything else) unless I would admit being wrong for my beliefs on OTHER topics. That was the nail in my Activism coffin.
Today's fight is a far cry from the fight of my youth. Today we fight for the right to marry in the REST of the states. Today we fight for the right to adopt children, to keep custody in divorces, to be able to donate blood. When I was young I never imagined I'd even be able to get married. Now I can, in most of the US. I never dreamed there were gay people who had children and families. I am now friends with HUNDREDS.
But today's fight also gets bogged down in minutiae: HEY, HE CAN'T USE THAT WORD! SHE CAN'T SAY THAT! THAT'S OFFENSIVE STOP IT. SOMEONE MIGHT GET HURT BY THAT WORD, STOP IT! I'M OFFENDED. WELL OKAY I'M NOT REALLY BUT SHE MIGHT BE AND SHE'S STANDING NEXT TO ME SO STOP IT!
Can we just take a minute here to discuss a principle that modern activism (rightfully) harps on constantly? It's called privilege. Once upon a time we fought for the right to be recognized as something other than sexual predators suffering from a mental illness. Now we have the privilege of whining about namecalling.
Too often I see my community begin to foam at the mouth because of a WORD or a PHRASE. And what's worse, we demonize EACH OTHER for not being equally politically correct at all times. RuPaul - undoubtedly one of the five most powerful and influential people in our entire worldwide community - becomes the target of untold vitriol and hatred because of a made up phrase/word she uses on her show. ON HER WILDLY POPULAR SHOW... THAT HAS ELEVATED DRAG TO A WIDELY ACCEPTED PERFORMANCE ART. THAT HAS MADE DRAG QUEENS INTERNATIONALLY FAMOUS. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
As far as I'm concerned, RuPaul can say whatever the fuck she wants. She has MORE THAN earned that right in my eyes.
What's really terrifying is that we, as a community, are espousing the very same value that used to threaten our very existence. Remember when the word "gay" was a bad word? Remember when "gay" people being in television or movies or anything at all was considered profligate and dangerous and pornographic? I do. Barely, but I remember it. I remember when Colorado voted NO on protecting the rights of gay people in the workplace. I remember when television syndicates refused to air Ellen on the grounds her show was too "adult" and "immoral" to be seen by young people.
I'm sick of seeing my community up in arms over WORDS. Words are just that - they are abstract concepts with no corporeal form. If you walk into the woods and call a tree a "bush," it does NOTHING to that tree. Go. Try it. Tell the tree it's a bush. Every single day. If the tree dies, it wasn't the word that killed it, it was something else. The word has no power over the tree because the tree A. cannot internalize it, and B. knows it's a fucking tree and so it acts accordingly.
No matter who you choose, there is nobody who is qualified to decide what can and cannot be said. And when we demand for the cancellation of shows, for the firing of employees, for the eradication of "hate speech," we may think we are doing ourselves a favor, but in reality we are doing ourselves a disservice. It is just as easy to ban the word "faggot" as it is to ban the word "gay." It is just as easy to fire someone for saying the word "she's a dyke" as it is to fire them for saying the word "I'm a lesbian." We cannot draw a line in the sand when it comes to language, because anyone who can speak or write or communicate can manipulate that line. With enough support, that pendulum could swing back on us in a very ugly fashion.
Censorship is dangerous. Censorship is a WEAPON OF GENOCIDE. Period.
And beyond that - we should be teaching our youth that they are stronger than labels and words. It doesn't matter what verbal weapons are thrown at them - they will not hurt. When we fight for the right to never feel offended, when our rights have been hard fought by offending others, we are displaying the very ultimate in hypocrisy. We are telling our youth that someone calling them a "faggot" affects them. Hurts them. Well guess what? There hasn't been a single month of my life - EVER - when I haven't been called a faggot. EVER. It never stops. If I had been taught at a young age that this word could damage me, I'd have sustained a lot of extra damage by now.
Also I, for one, find it comforting to know exactly who my enemies are. If the Republican Party ever stopped demonizing us, thousands of our "supporters" would flock to them to save a little money. Hell I'd probably vote Republican once in a while if only they didn't hate the gays and women and immigrants so much. But how would I know the extent to which they hate gays, women and ethnic people if they didn't - CONSTANTLY - state it?
Harvey Milk - one of our patron saints, I daresay - often said that "hope is never silent." He believed that visibility was our most powerful tool, and in a large way that has proven true. My visibility as a gay man at a young age helped change a LOT of hearts and minds - men and women that used to "pray for my soul" and were convinced I was diseased and in pain now campaign for equality and vote against candidates who demonize our people. I did that. I was not alone, but you bet your ass there's a part of them that remembers little gay-ol-me. And I offended every. single. fucking. one of them. at some point.
Furthermore, I now currently work as an openly gay man in an industry that is OVERWHELMINGLY straight-white-Republican-men. And I'm fucking THRIVING. There isn't a day goes by that I don't have to fight for my right to be at the top of the heap. And ya know what? I am right there at the top as often as not, and have never been very far away from it even when I'm not Alpha Dog. I have proven beyond a doubt to everyone that has seen me that I am just as capable of greatness, that there is absolutely NOTHING about me that precludes me from success. I can do EVERYTHING they can do. And many of them probably didn't believe someone like me existed this time last year. I also don't care what anyone says about me, and recognize that deep down, it's their actions, not their words, that matter.
Oddly enough, I get in more fights with "Liberal" people over the right to say what I want than I do with "Conservative" people over my right to exist.
Do me a favor, my fellow Liberals: quit caring so fucking much what other people say about you. The more power you give them, the more power they will take. If you simply must be offended by something recognize this: there are people that are offended by you, too. Does that mean you should think/speak/act differently to please them?
