by any name

daveholmes:

Then read the transcript of this NPR story about the religious right’s reaction to gay content in anti-bullying programs in schools. Much has been and much more will be written about Tony Perkins’ truly repulsive comments here (in a nutshell: gay kids don’t kill themselves because people bully them, they do it because they know they’re disgusting), so I won’t spend any time on that. 

But here’s what sticks in my craw: 

“There is no confusion on this,” says Barb Anderson, who works for the Minnesota Family Council, an evangelical group. “Any teacher can stop bullying in its tracks — and should.”

Anderson says she deplores bullying. But she wants to keep the neutrality policy because she says that controversial topics like sexual orientation should be taught in the home or church — not in school. And she believes that changing the policy to allow such discussions is a ploy to normalize homosexuality for kids.

“It becomes homosexual advocacy when you allow this curriculum to come in under the guise of anti-bullying,” she says.

Actually, Barb, if you use the words “homosexual advocacy,” then there is some confusion on this. If telling kids that gay people exist and are perfectly fine the way they are amounts to advocacy, consider this:

Both of my parents are heterosexual. Both of my brothers are heterosexual, as are the women they went on to marry. All four of my grandparents, all my aunts and uncles and cousins. Every family in the subdivision where I grew up was headed by a heterosexual couple. Every teacher I had, every coach, every director, every tutor, every administrator, every custodial worker, every bus or carpool driver or crossing guard. Every character in every TV show I watched in my youth was heterosexual- even the rabbits and pigs. Every character in every movie I saw, play I watched or book I read growing up was heterosexual. Every love song I heard when I was a kid was opposite-sex-directed. Every rock star I admired was heterosexual. Every rock star I had no opinion about was heterosexual. Every person I read about in every magazine I ever read was heterosexual. Every politician, sports star or local hero on the news was heterosexual. Every newscaster, every game-show host, every VJ, every weatherman. Every couple kissing on every commercial.

Everyone.

Every single person, real or imagined, in my daily life or in my dream life, was straight.

And in my youth, all I wanted out of life- in every aspect of my life- was to fit in. Anything that was unusual about me was something I tried to iron right out. I wanted to be like everyone else so badly, I took it on as a form of homework: how would a normal kid hold his books? What music would a regular person like? How would a real boy throw a football or shake a hand or cough?

Somehow, this enormous amount of actual heterosexual activism, coupled with the diligent and tireless work of a very smart kid, was not enough.

I ended up being gay. Which I was all along. 

The summer I came out to my family, my oldest brother set up a lunch between me and one of his bosses, the only other gay person he knew. I had a nice, long conversation with this guy, who was in his fifties, and whose two-decades-long sobriety indicated that he’d been through some tough times. He looked me in the eye as we settled the check and told me something I’d needed to hear my whole life: “You’re gay. That’s the way you’re supposed to be. Don’t punish yourself.”

I was 22 years old. 

There is a huge difference, and Barb Anderson and Tony Perkins know it, between telling kids they are just fine the way they are and “advocacy.” Advocacy is, in fact, utterly beside the point- the spectacular and uniform failure of “ex-gay ministries” shows us that. You are what you are, and if someone had managed to pull me aside and tell me that when I was 13, I might have saved myself a few years of pointless self-hatred.

What’s funny is that these people think they’ve been engaged in a fight with us. Rest up, Barb and Tony: the fight has not yet begun.