The Evolved Thinking of an A-hole

In light of yesterday's SCOTUS decision (and the state-by-state equality fight that still wages), I thought it might be timely to write a post about an anecdote I've told in private conversations a number of times . . .

The Summer after my freshman year at NEVADA I was exposed to “gay America” up close and personal for the first time. A group of friends and I went to Red Rock National Conservation Area to do what we did so often in our youth, trade jabs, climb rocks and get a sunburn. Among my friends, I was considered the most “conservative” and outspoken of the group. I had voted for Bush 41 our senior year (one of the few in my class old enough to vote for president) and had defended some relatively conservative perspectives in personal and public conversations (one of which was supporting the Yucca Mountain nuclear waste repository). Well this day in particular will be burned in my memory for the rest of my life and it wasn't due to happiness, but because of shame.

The entire day a close friend of mine (he who shall not be named but a great person and very accepting and nice guy nonetheless) and I exchanged gay slurs, epithets and the like (much like most straight young men did and still do) for our own entertainment. We were in rare form. It was easily the most aggressive I'd ever been with homophobic rhetoric. We thought we were funny. We thought others thought we were funny. Boy o' boy, were we not funny.

That night, my best friend Holly (an incoming sophomore at Wellesley College at the time),  confronted me about my behavior. In my mind, it was all in good fun but apparently one person, in particular, was more than offended, he was scared. Apparently, everyone but me and my homophobic rhetorical partner in crime knew that our friend Clif had come out of the closet the preceding fall semester while matriculating at MIT. I was mortified. Not because he was gay, but because my brazen, insulting sense of humor had done something I had never intended. It actually offended someone (someone with more courage than I'll ever possess) and it wasn't taken for what it really was, my attempt at lighthearted, albeit terrible, humor.

I replayed the entire Red Rock debacle back and forth in my head within seconds. With each replay, I became increasingly sick to my stomach. Clif was (and still is) one of the nicest guys I've ever met and one of the smartest people I have had the pleasure of knowing. But, in an afternoon, I had completely demeaned an important aspect of who he was purely for my own entertainment. This was not who I thought I was, it was not who I wanted to be.

I asked Holly why Clif hadn't come out to me before that day. She said he had assumed one of our other friends had delivered the news and he felt I was so conservative that I'd never accept him. Real, gut wrenching mortification set in . . . apparently my words and actions that day confirmed his fear. As loose as I was (am) with my insults, I never intend them to hurt anyone. I used stupid insulting humor because I felt everyone needed to laugh at themselves. In turn, I readily invited ridicule about who/what I represented . . . I wanted give/take participation. Most my friends saw through my bullshit for what it was but this was different. This wasn't passing fun. This was hurtful. It was more than juvenile, it was socially criminal. Time to grow up.

I quickly gathered my thoughts and gave him a call that very moment with Holly sitting by my side. I explained I had no idea he had come out. I explained his sexuality had nothing to do with my commentary. I explained that his friendship could never be severed because of his sexuality. I apologized profusely for my words, behavior, insensitivity. I was hoping there was some way he would recognize I was not a person of hate but an idiot with a bad sense of humor. He seemed okay but I still felt pangs of guilt for the ferocity of my actions earlier that day. . . I was getting off too easy. I offered to pick him up for a pool party the next day and said I'd like to talk in person, one-on-one. He agreed.

I picked him up at his house. As he exited the front door, I noticed he was wearing a gay pride shirt . . . "Now THAT is how you react to a person like me!" I smiled. We talked. It was a good talk, an honest talk. I was self deprecating. He was nervous. It was surprisingly easy. I think he recognized I wasn't a bigot, I was just an asshole that needed serious sensitivity training. I had always been an asshole that needed serious sensitivity training, still am.

I tell this story because I think everyone deserves the opportunity to evolve their thinking (including Paula Deen). Realize words (albeit unintended) can hurt. Words and actions are powerful and should reflect who you are and what you think not be a stupid tool for hurtful humor even if it is intended to be anything but hurtful.

I was lucky, I got off easy . . . far too easy for my offense.

Since that time, I renounced my affiliation with the Republican party (resigning from the Clark County Central Committee over the issue of defining legal marriage as being between a man and a woman) as well as media trained the local Human Rights Campaign chapter. Would I have become a straight ally (I really don't like that term, by the way) if I hadn't been such a jerk in my youth? I'd like to think so but you never know. It takes moments of self reflection to shape a life and as ashamed as I am about that one day in the Summer of 1994, I am glad it happened. Hopefully my friend Clif can forgive me for my ignorance and insensitivity (if he hasn't already). If he can or has, the prolonged shame was worth it. 

This moment in time will stay with me till I die. It is a reminder that we each need to work harder to become better, more accepting people. More informed and educated people. It helped define what I think is supremely American: the ability to adapt and evolve one's thinking, continually striving to create a "more perfect union." I can't imagine a more perfect union than two consenting adults demonstrating their love for each other through marriage, no matter their gender, race or preference. 

At risk of sounding trite and corny, the world needs more acceptance and love not confrontation and hate. I struggle each day to understand, live and emulate that realization.