Homophobia

A friend asked me to keep her company while she did some early Christmas shopping earlier today. I was reluctant at first. One of the things I hate doing is shopping. If ever I have to buy something, I just go directly to the most likely place to make my purchase and get it over with quickly. I don’t find pleasure in window shopping, and I don’t have much patience for bargain hunting. And I most especially hate shopping with girls. They take their sweet time before deciding on buying something. And even when they don’t intend to buy something, they seem to find pleasure in trying on every dress, every shoe in every store. I on the other hand, find that embarrassing, even if I’m just accompanying them. During those times when I went shopping with my past girlfriends, they know it’s a supreme sacrifice for me. LOL. The mere fact that I agreed to shop with her earlier just shows how bored I am these days. Better to go shopping instead of spending another day at home doing nothing.

While we were walking around the mall, I made a sudden detour. I must have changed directions so abruptly that she couldn’t help but notice. When she looked back at the direction we were previously headed, she giggled. Then she said “My God, You are such a HOMOPHOBE!”

I said “what the hell are you talking about? How can I be a homophobe when two of my closest friends are gays?”

She answered, “just because a person has gone to a Bar Mitzvah once or twice doesn’t make him Jewish”, a quote so familiar it must have been from a movie or something. Then she continued “you having gay friends doesn’t disguise the fact that you’re so afraid of the rest of them!”

I replied “you’re crazy, I’m not afraid of gays.”

“You’re so in denial! You were obviously trying to avoid that group of gay men having coffee there! I’ve seen you do that sudden detour of yours several times in the past!”

“Look, I had bad experiences with gay men clustered like that. Several times I’ve been given catcalls and uncomfortable stares when I passed by a group of gay men. It’s so embarrassing! When they’re clustered together like that, the gay mob seems to develop a mind of its own. They’re prone to transform into lions hunting for their prey.”

“Stop the BS. Things like that can’t make you a homophobe. There’s a deeper reason, probably the way you were brought up. You hate gay men in general and you know it. Your propensity in using the word FAGGOT gives you away”.

“C’mon, The word FAGGOT is just a word. Queer, Fruit, Fag, Gay. Same Banana.”

“Black, Nigger, African-American. You once topped English class. Those words are not the same and you know it.”

I didn’t give an answer, then after a few minutes of silence, she saw a dress she wanted to try out. End of argument.

She was right though. I say I’m not, but I am homophobic. I’m remarkably more open minded now, but I’m still a homophobe. I just wasn’t aware that it was that obvious. Partly, it’s the way I was brought up. My grandfather is very vocal with his hatred of gays. He can be civil when talking to them, but always curse them when he’s beyond hearing range. And whenever a gay man appears on TV, he shouts expletives at them, calling them freaks of nature, vessels of doom, the bane of this Earth. He’s not the only family member like that. My grandmother talks about gays as if they have some form of deadly communicable disease. Sinners. Outcasts. Pariahs. Although my dad has gay friends, he sees those gays on the streets as objects of ridicule. Abnormal. Inferior. Expendable. My cousin in his teenage years seems to be showing signs of homosexuality, and all my relatives can’t stop whispering, saying he’ll just give shame to our clan. He better behave and not come out of the closet if ever he was indeed gay, or else… he’ll probably be disowned. Such views are typical in a highly conservative family. And even though the society we’re in now is more tolerant than it was several years ago, the fact remains that gays are still discriminated and looked down upon. Just last week one of my friends was kept out of an establishment because cross dressers are not allowed inside. Another person I know doesn’t tell his co-workers that he’s gay for fear of losing his job in a male dominated field. A lot of people act so warm and nice when talking to gays straight to their faces, then say a lot of awful things behind their backs. Since childhood, I’ve seen gays as people we make fun of… Also as people whom little boys should be afraid of. I’ve been given a few warnings as a child, never to approach that gay man, never be alone with that beautician, etc. I was taught to exercise extreme caution when I’m with them, even though I didn’t know exactly what harm these people can do back then.

Chalk up another one for the Skeletons in the Closet list. When I was around 12 years old, I was struggling for some sort of independence. Typical of every person in the early years of puberty. Doing things alone was a way of showing independence. I bought stuff in the malls alone. I tried taking cabs alone. I tried watching movies alone. I can’t remember the first two movies I watched alone, but I’ll never forget the third one. Some generic sci-fi alien invasion movie, another rehash of the body snatchers premise. Halfway through the movie, a tall, muscular, extremely huge man sat beside me. No one sat beside me during the first two times I watched a movie alone, so I was quickly suspicious… and very terrified. I’ve heard stories of hold-uppers in cinemas, where these criminals would be on the lookout for prospective victims, usually people watching movies alone. On knife-point or gun point, they would ask for your valuables. Dare to refuse and you’d wind up getting hurt, or even wind up dead. I didn’t have many valuables back then; I only had a few bucks on my wallet, the remains of my allowance. I only had a cheap watch, I never wore any jewelry. My shirt was pretty expensive; I was worried that I might go home shirtless if I refused to comply. Embarrassment was a small price to pay if I’d get my life in exchange, that’s what I though. Amidst all the fear, many thoughts were rumbling through my head. I was just a skinny 12 year old kid, I was no match to this huge man. I couldn’t put up a fight. I was so oblivious to the world back then, I never imagined that what would happen would be much much worse than anything I could ever think of.

He put one of his huge hands on one of my skinny thighs. I looked at him, and he was just poker faced. He whispered something like “be quiet if you don’t want to get hurt”. I had no intention of shouting or crying for help… he could quickly stab me as I was shouting. I thought of running but surely he would catch up with me and stab me or shoot me. He seemed to be caressing my thigh as I was shaking all over. I still didn’t know what he wanted, he never said anything about money and other valuables. Then after what seemed like an eternity he opened my zipper and put his hand inside my underwear. I was filled with horror. I never knew things like that happened inside cinemas! I was one pampered child completely unaware of the different forms of evil in the world. I tried to struggle but he twisted my arm and grabbed my crotch, squeezing it then whispering something like “be quiet and sit still or I’ll rip your balls off” as he licked my ear. I was mortified. I was already crying then. He pulled down my pants and underwear to my knees, and I was still crying, afraid of what he’s going to do, afraid that someone else might see me in all my naked glory, afraid of what else he might do to me if I didn’t comply. He played with my thing for minutes, and I wondered what pleasure this horrible person can get just by fondling and stroking another person’s sexual organ. Jesus Christ, I wasn’t even in my teens then, I barely have pubic hair, and this adult derived pleasure in playing with a child’s sexual organ? Shouldn’t these monsters prefer playing with the penises of men their age?! He whispered something like “why isn’t it hard? Make it hard! Make it hard!” Stupid faggot! How could I have made it hard when I was trembling with fear! He was getting angry, squeezing my thing to the point that it already hurt. After what seemed like another eternity, he must have realized that it was an exercise in futility. He let go of my thing, shook my hand, and then left.

I was dumbfounded. Time stood still. I was frozen in shock that I didn’t pull my pants up immediately. The movie ended and I still couldn’t move. I just sat there, staring at the empty screen, and then the next screening started. Suddenly, another guy sat beside me. I was immediately suspicious. He wasn’t exactly doing anything, but he kept making glances at me, and I knew he was up to something. I looked at him warily. He must be some sort of office guy, wearing a neck tie, carrying what looked like an attaché case. Then to my surprise, another guy sat on the empty seat on my other side. What the fuck was this, some sort of tag team?! That other guy looked at me and he was smiling. Some old guy with a moustache, and wrinkles all over his face. Old guy, gaunt face, one who fits the typical profile of a pedophile. Then he poked my hand. That was it. I shouted an expletive at them as I quickly stood up. I ran away as quickly as I could. I didn’t care anymore if they ran after me with a knife or a gun. I’d rather die than experience something like that again. I never told my parents. It took years before I told anyone about that traumatic experience.

A week later, I was at a mall looking for a comic book, minding my own business. Then a person, obviously another fag, approached me, saying he was following me for some time already, and he was wondering if I could be friends with him. He asked if I was hungry and if I wanted to eat somewhere. I said “GO AWAY!” But he was one persistent mother fuck, he still followed me, asking for my number at least. I ignored him and walked faster. I looked back and the asshole was still following me! It’s possible that he really wanted just friendship, but I’m sure that’s highly improbable. Still fresh from an untoward incident, I believed that was impossible. The quasi cat and mouse chase led to the parking lot, and he was screaming something like he only wanted to be friends, to get to know me better. He was almost directly beside me. I turned towards him and punched him in the face as hard as I could. He shrieked. I thought I hit him in the eye, but maybe I also hit his nose bridge because there was minute bleeding from his nose. There was a taxi approaching, I hailed it, told the driver to take me home as fast as he could, and we left the screaming faggot behind, shouting something like I’m going to pay for what I did. I wasn’t thinking of any possible consequences at that time. Who cares if he sued me or sent me to jail. I didn’t give a shit. What I did felt good. It felt really really good. I couldn’t help but smile.

That was the only instance that I hurt some fag. Although I wanted to beat up several of them badly at one point or another in the past. I can be civil with them, no problem. I can be friends with them, no problem at all. It’s not like every gay man has the uncontrollable urge to grab some peen. As I’ve said, two close friends of mine are gay men, and their friendship and company I’ll forever treasure. But a lot of them really give all homosexuals a bad name. I’d hate to generalize, but majority of the gay men I encounter randomly are like that. While walking on the streets, inside malls… I hear catcalls clearly directed towards me. Don’t these people have any shame? Does being homosexual give them the right to throw away all discretion and decency to the wind? And they wonder why homosexuals are discriminated and looked down upon. Twice in my lifetime, I’ve fallen victim to faggots spreading rumors, saying I’m their boyfriend, and that I’m doing a lot of gross homo things with them. Wishful thinking on their part, yes… but what does it do to my reputation? Why would some people fabricate scenarios, create outright lies? How was I to know that my being nice and friendly would be seen as a perfect opportunity for them to exploit? How I wanted to beat them up. It’s not just about one’s reputation being tarnished. It’s also about trust, and trust is a big deal to me. At times I got so mad I wanted to murder them just to shut them up forever. And they have to nerve to cry out when they feel oppressed, they have the audacity to complain when people look down upon them and think they’re desperate and pathetic. They have the gall to act so cocky, and act as if they’re always the victim. Several months back, I was introduced to what looked like the prototype of the filthy, noisy, dirty type of faggot. He had the nerve to drop hints that he wanted to take me home, and he was not even doing it discreetly! On another encounter he told me pointblank that I looked like the type of guy who liked getting his dick sucked by a faggot just for the kicks of it, or because it felt better because “gays suck dick better than girls”. If I wasn’t that type, then I was one of those who think it’s okay to have their dick sucked by gays since a mouth is still a mouth, just like any other mouth. If I wasn’t any of those types, then I’m one of those who were willing to try, at least once. Jesus Christ. What a pathetic little son of a bitch. Was all that talk meant to entice me? How low can one person go just to get some dick. I just tried to act as a gentleman would… I just laughed even though I didn’t think he was funny, I just smiled as I said “no, you’re mistaken”, even though all I wanted to do was leave, else I might end up punching his dirty little mouth just so I can shut him up.

I couldn’t count the times when gays would approach me and ask for my number, wanting to be “friends”. Friends my ass! I seldom make friends with people I meet randomly, what more if that random person seemed to have some ulterior motive. And what about those many times when I’m caught during rush hour in public transport? All of a sudden someone will grope my crotch for a second or two. And since people are cramped like sardines in trains and subways during rush hour, I have no way of telling whose hand that was. Some even act discreetly, rubbing their ass against my crotch in such gently motion, ill-synchronized with the movement of the train. I wasn’t born yesterday. Even though I want to strangle them from behind or shove a pipe up their ass to give them more than they asked for, I chose to act civilized and simply turn around, shaking my head, thinking how pathetic and desperate some people can get.

My friend was right. Deep inside, I am homophobic--- but don’t I have reason to be angry, to be afraid? Don’t I have reason to be wary of them, at least those I’m not close to? I hate it when people generalize, and I hate myself when I generalize… but based from past experiences, both trivial and traumatic, I couldn’t help but generalize. I can’t shake the initial impression I have towards these people. I can act civil and all, but I would always remain guarded. I would only put my guard down completely when I give complete trust to these people, when they’ve already become friends. Friends wouldn’t dare destroy the trust they give each other. Friends think way above the superficial. Friends share and care for things that are not limited to skin deep.

She was right about another thing. The words FAGGOT and GAY, despite having the same meaning, have different connotations. I don’t use the word Faggot to describe my gay friends. I know that word has a derogatory connotation, a fact that I relish every time I use it to describe someone I detest. I would never describe a friend by using such a derogatory term, not even in jokes… friends can only be described with praises and terms of endearment. I call my gay friends simply FRIENDS. I don’t call them queer, I don’t call them gay. I don’t use other terms to define them, derogatory or not. I’ve looked beyond their homosexuality and saw the great person lying beneath the surface.

As for the rest of them? I’m fine with calling them by any other name. I’m fine with labeling them as fags. Because based from past experiences, unless proven otherwise --- they’re after only one thing. Call me assuming, call me ignorant… call me boastful, egotistic, so full of myself. Call me anything and I still won’t give a fuck. Even in the guise of friendship and good will, I assume that all they really want in the end is to get inside my pants.