How do I say this?
Aug. 8th, 2002 03:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gangrel_priMy post before this one originally said something much different, before I went back and edited it. I'm still not going to ever let it see the light of day. Let it die silently.
Damn it, everything I type comes out shitty tonight. I used to be an activist, and then I met the AIDS Quilt, and all the activist bones in my body dies a silent death. (I sense a repeated metaphore here. silence=death. Maybe my activism isn't quite as dead as I'd like it to be. *gets out .45 mm shotgun and shoots "Activist James Action Figure" in the head*) Anyway, as I was saying, being confronted with death on any scale makes me examine myself. I'd generalize, and say this happens to everyone, but this is MY journal, and I can only speak for myself. Being confronted with all the testaments of love for people I had never met before...I think I cried for 48 straight hours after the display. And I was only looking at a small segment of the full thing. I don't think I have the strength to look at the full thing when the assemble it.
But anyway, that was the death of my activism. I didn't have it in me to constantly go out and try to change people's minds by screaming about getting my human rights back. I know how bad that sounds, but I came to the conclusion that the best I could do was be an example for those I was close to, to show them that I could be something other than "just another faggot". I suppose in its own watered down way, that's a form of activism in and of itself. But a lot of it was a realization that I couldn't make things change instantaneously. I'd prefer to be like water, eroding hate slowly and over time. It's really hard to hate a person, while it's really easy to hate an idea. Yeah, visibility is one thing, and in a lot of ways, particularly in college, I was one of the first gay peeps people had ever met. (No offense to WSU, but it did attract a lot of people from towns smaller than mine, and mine was pretty damn small.) And I think I've been sucessful in my quest. I've made friends with people who used to use "faggot", "queer", "dyke", and "gay" as insults hurled at one another's masculinity or femininity. I can't help out with racism as much, since I'm too damn WASPy, but there again, I do what I can. And what really sucks is when I find some long hidden bit of homophobia or -ism hiding in the back of my psyche. Because then I get to feel like a hypocrite. It doesn't help that my Uncle Paul could be Archie Bunker. Or that I occasionally feel like I'm overcompensating for my own issues.
There was a time when I was so stressed that most of my friends thought I was going to kill off my high school if I lost my toothbrush. That was the year I had Chevy Hoover yelling "queer!" at me every time I walked past him. And now, I just ignore it. Being a gay man is part of who I am, but it is NOT everything that I am. Just as my religion is another part, but again, it is not how I define myself. Yes, they are another set of filters that information passes through, but they are not who I am, or how I want people to define me. I'd rather have people think of me as a mensche than a gay mensche or a jbc/pagan/whatever mensche. (Actually, what I'd really like is every gay man mourning my loss at a funeral for not getting a crack at me, but that can wait for another fantasy post.)
I am who I am. I can't change some things about myself, but by the same token, I learn something new and therefore change and grow a bit each day. It's weird but true, I am not the same person from one minute to another. I just hope that with each new me, I'm better than the last one.
And I'm really sorry to take up everyone's friends pages with this semi-rant, but I really wanted to express some of the things I'm feeling in a way that people can hopefully relate to.
Shalom, blessed be, Amen.
Damn it, everything I type comes out shitty tonight. I used to be an activist, and then I met the AIDS Quilt, and all the activist bones in my body dies a silent death. (I sense a repeated metaphore here. silence=death. Maybe my activism isn't quite as dead as I'd like it to be. *gets out .45 mm shotgun and shoots "Activist James Action Figure" in the head*) Anyway, as I was saying, being confronted with death on any scale makes me examine myself. I'd generalize, and say this happens to everyone, but this is MY journal, and I can only speak for myself. Being confronted with all the testaments of love for people I had never met before...I think I cried for 48 straight hours after the display. And I was only looking at a small segment of the full thing. I don't think I have the strength to look at the full thing when the assemble it.
But anyway, that was the death of my activism. I didn't have it in me to constantly go out and try to change people's minds by screaming about getting my human rights back. I know how bad that sounds, but I came to the conclusion that the best I could do was be an example for those I was close to, to show them that I could be something other than "just another faggot". I suppose in its own watered down way, that's a form of activism in and of itself. But a lot of it was a realization that I couldn't make things change instantaneously. I'd prefer to be like water, eroding hate slowly and over time. It's really hard to hate a person, while it's really easy to hate an idea. Yeah, visibility is one thing, and in a lot of ways, particularly in college, I was one of the first gay peeps people had ever met. (No offense to WSU, but it did attract a lot of people from towns smaller than mine, and mine was pretty damn small.) And I think I've been sucessful in my quest. I've made friends with people who used to use "faggot", "queer", "dyke", and "gay" as insults hurled at one another's masculinity or femininity. I can't help out with racism as much, since I'm too damn WASPy, but there again, I do what I can. And what really sucks is when I find some long hidden bit of homophobia or -ism hiding in the back of my psyche. Because then I get to feel like a hypocrite. It doesn't help that my Uncle Paul could be Archie Bunker. Or that I occasionally feel like I'm overcompensating for my own issues.
There was a time when I was so stressed that most of my friends thought I was going to kill off my high school if I lost my toothbrush. That was the year I had Chevy Hoover yelling "queer!" at me every time I walked past him. And now, I just ignore it. Being a gay man is part of who I am, but it is NOT everything that I am. Just as my religion is another part, but again, it is not how I define myself. Yes, they are another set of filters that information passes through, but they are not who I am, or how I want people to define me. I'd rather have people think of me as a mensche than a gay mensche or a jbc/pagan/whatever mensche. (Actually, what I'd really like is every gay man mourning my loss at a funeral for not getting a crack at me, but that can wait for another fantasy post.)
I am who I am. I can't change some things about myself, but by the same token, I learn something new and therefore change and grow a bit each day. It's weird but true, I am not the same person from one minute to another. I just hope that with each new me, I'm better than the last one.
And I'm really sorry to take up everyone's friends pages with this semi-rant, but I really wanted to express some of the things I'm feeling in a way that people can hopefully relate to.
Shalom, blessed be, Amen.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2002-08-09 04:36 pm (UTC)You settled.
Re:
Date: 2002-08-09 04:40 pm (UTC)Sighs.
I need something to get fired up over. Gay marriage is not something that ranks high currently, if only because I can't find a date, let alone a boyfriend.
no subject
Date: 2002-08-10 09:31 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2002-08-10 11:17 pm (UTC)