I am homo, hear me roar!

I don’t know if what I’m about to say is correct.  I don’t know if it’s the right thing to do.  In fact, I’m almost positive there is a better alternative out there; I just don’t know what it would be.  But given the recent bullying related suicides, and October 11^th being National Coming Out Day, I feel the need to say something. 

                When I was a little boy, I was bullied.  A lot.  I was tiny.  I had long, unruly curly hair.  I had huge glasses that covered half my face.  Most of my clothes were dirty, had holes in them, or were much too large for me.  And I was a smart-ass even back then—in short, I was a pretty damn easy target.  There was even an “I hate Jesse” club in elementary school.  They had signs and everything.  Don’t ask me why, pre-teen girls can be pretty damn cruel.  There was one who beat me up every time I saw her—Jessica.  We eventually became friends (feuds in elementary school usually last about as long as a stoner’s short term memory), but that’s not the point. 

                One day I ran into Jessica and her friends, and of course she went after me, laughing the entire time.  To her, this was a game, a joke.  Well I had had enough, so I punched her, as hard as I could, in the stomach—and that bitch went down!  Now, at the time, I was freaked out and ran away like a little bitch, convinced I was going to jail for hitting a girl.  That didn’t happen, obviously, and I didn’t even get in trouble with the teacher—which, looking back, shows a significant lack of discipline on my schools part.  Shame on you Raleigh Hills.

Jessica never touched me again.

She was afraid of me.

I had taken the power. 

                And that lesson stayed with me till this day.  It wasn’t the act of violence that made the bullying stop, it was me standing up and saying “No.  This is not ok, I don’t like this, I will not allow you to do this to me.”  I stopped being a victim, and people stopped treating me like one.  I kept with this as I was growing up—and guess what?  I was that skinny little awkward closeted gay boy who never got his ass kicked.  I refused to believe that I was anything less than extraordinary, I was awesome, and if anyone else thought differently, well…then they could go fuck themselves. 

                And so I ask the gay community—when are we going to stand up and say no?  When are we going to get mad?  When are we going to stop being the victim?  Being gay doesn’t make us less of a man; my machismo may be different than others, but I have testosterone and hairy balls just like a straight guy.  And the sooner we all stop thinking of ourselves as weak, the sooner people will stop treating us like we are weak.  If we want to be taken seriously, then maybe we should start taking ourselves seriously.  Maybe if we start making noise, loud, angry noise, everyone else will shut up.

                It takes more than just saying “It gets better.”  I don’t want it to get better.  I want it to be better, now.  And I don’t see why we have to wait!  Stand up for yourselves ladies.  Grow a pair.  It’s ok to be angry.  Show the world we are not victims, we are not weak, and we most certainly are not afraid. 

Lord, I need a drink.

Jesse