If you haven’t been reading my glorious nonsense thus far
(shame on you), you may not know I used to be against a number of things.
Drinking, pre-marital sex, swearing and homosexuality to name a few. That last
one is quite ironic because a certain kiss scene from Cruel Intentions has
always tugged at my insides in a very particular way, ifyouknowhatimean. But
eventually all of that changed, and here is one side of the story.
When I was 16 years old, one of my friends (who was 17
at the time) came out to me, in the equipment room of our high school
gymnasium. I was devastated, of course, because I had unrequited feelings for
him, left over from our torrid two-week affair the previous year. Oh and I was
also sure that he was now damned for all eternity. We had had a tumultuous
relationship since first meeting 4 years prior at our town’s music festival.
Yes, we were band geeks. Myself a vocalist and he an extremely talented pianist.
He also played the violin. And the flute. And later the French horn. And even
later the tuba. I digress...the point is, students of the arts have a less-than
sportsmanlike approach to competition, in my experience. (I once held a grudge
against a fellow songstress for 11 years). So even though we never competed
directly, there was still some sort of vague power-struggle between us. Also he
tormented me in grade 9 by constantly making Christian lesbian jokes (I had
very very short hair, and very very secret thoughts – thank you Xaviera). We had grown closer since those first days, but still this revelation was a bit of a shock. And as he shared his feelings and experiences with me, at first tentatively and then with growing conviction, I did my best to say nothing. Even though I wanted to slap him silly and then run away in tears, I knew I had to listen. And as he talked I realized that he was still my friend. There was this new, strange and vaguely offensive part...but essentially he was the same. And I was the first person he had ever told; he had trusted me with this complicated truth. Later on, he also trusted me to put on his eyeliner. One of these endeavors turned out quite well. It definitely took some adjustment for me, but from that day on we had a special bond.
We did the most ridiculous things together. Growing up in rural Manitoba certainly leaves some social activities to be desired, unless you’re really into 4-H. So we made our own fun in the form of cakes, capes, fashion shows, musicals, Indian leg wrestling (the bruises are gone but the emotional scars remain) and more. We watched Peter Pan countless times before graduation, holding each other and weeping, so hesitant to grow up. As I have mentioned before, my parents had a lot to deal with.
It was many years later before I embraced my own
not-quite-straight feelings, and when I told him about it he just
laughed. Not in a mocking or judging way, but in a way that said ‘yes, of
course I understand you crazy bitch’. What if I had freaked out that day in the
gym? What if I had condemned him and refused to listen? I would have missed out
on a much needed support, and a very important friendship.
These days I wouldn’t classify myself as gay, or even
bi-sexual. But I am an open-minded person, and no matter what you’re into I
find it interesting. What does worry me is that maybe I don’t speak my mind
enough on issues such as these. To me, it’s obvious that my friend should have
as much of a right as anyone else to get married, and divorced, and re-married
(wink), or to have a child, or to simply have the respect of society and feel
safe when walking home at night, holding hands with his lover.
If you don’t understand homosexuality, if it weirds you out,
if you understand it completely, if you feel it’s wrong, or if you simply support
it, we all have a responsibility to be tolerant to other people. When you close
your mouth and open your mind, you might be surprised what can happen.
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