Posted by:
Gay Philosopher
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Date: May 29, 2013 10:03PM
Hi Inverso,
Thanks for the interesting post. Your third point reminded me of something that I hadn't thought about in a long time. My friend Doug was married to a woman, but they divorced after counselling failed. Doug knew that he was gay, and that nothing was going to change that. He was terribly unhappy because he felt obligated to try to engage in sex with his wife, but found it repulsive. His father-in-law asked Doug to please divorce, and Doug did.
It was then that a hearbreaking set of events unfolded. Remember that both he and his ex-wife were Mormon. When Doug divorced his wife and decided to live openly as a gay man, news spread like wildfire. His apartment was broken into, and the inside trashed. "F-AG" was spray painted inside. Lots of his possessions were destroyed. He was fired from his job. He was maybe 24 at the time. Can you even begin to imagine how much he must have suffered--the sheer stress, the fear, the rejection (including from his family)? He was one of the greatest, most courageous, honest human beings that I've ever known, and an incredibly talented writer. To have lost him to suicide eight years later is unspeakably painful.
Sticks and stones may break bones, but words and psychological torture such as shunning positively kill. I still have this sense that it can't be real. He can't be dead. I feel like I should be able to write him, to tell him how much I love him, and how incredibly important he was to me. (I'm grateful that he knew.) I wish that he could have felt about himself the way that I felt about him. If he did, he'd still be here. I can't help but think that a lack of love killed Doug. He didn't seem to belong anywhere. But he constantly kept trying, and kept trying, and kept trying. He saved me from what would have been a catastrophic relationship at one point, for which I'm again grateful beyond words. I'd give anything to have him back. My experience of the world permanently dimmed the day that I found out that Doug had died.
I keep mentioning Doug not only because he meant so much to me personally, but because he was a real, flesh-and-blood human being, who didn't do anything wrong, and was always well-intentioned. Through no fault of his own, he was born into a devoutly Mormon family. The religion's doctrines were at complete odds with the emotional health of a gay boy, and later man. And over time, the culture that rejected him, combined with an apathetic world, led to his refusal to go on living in it.
All of us are in this life together. All of us will die one day. One century from now, no one reading this will still be alive. As my grandmother used to say, "Now is your time." It's just that it's difficult to understand what to do, to strive for, in one's time. But one goal that I have is to prevent such a terrible loss and tragedy from ever happening again. That's part of the reason that JL's post in the previous thread bothered me so much. I can't bear to have another human being commmit suicide because they've been ostracized by their family for the equivalent of being left-handed.
The absurdity of it is so great that it leads me in one of two directions. The first is that our species evolved. Humans emerged through descent with modification. We're just mammals. Everything that we do, or that happens to us, has a naturalistic explanation, and so nothing ultimately matters. There's no transcendent reality. When we die (if not before), our consciousness and personality ceases to exist. There's no recourse for injustice except to fellow human beings, and that strategy doesn't seem to yield terriby satisfying results, and so generally, we suffer a whole lot, and then we perish. The end. The second direction is that we're actually spiritual beings who have incarnated into human mammal bodies to learn and grow, to love and to acquire knowledge and have experiences. And when this monstrously difficult grad school nightmare is over, we'll return wehre we came from--a much better existence. And somewhere in that light is Doug Stewart. I'll see him again. I know which of these stories I'd rather believe. I don't know which (if either) is true.
I'm sincerely sorry to anyone I've offended in using the term "breeder." I really didn't write it as a term of offense, but only because I thought that it was funny and innocuous. I won't use it again.
Inverso, Douggie was really, really intelligent. At one point, he'd gotten into law school, and attended for a year before deciding that he didn't want to pursue it. Before he died, he had gotten into an MBA program and attended for at least a year. Desite these things, he never had a career, only jobs. And it really makes me wonder why, and think about heterosexist power--power that he never shared in. Doug couldn't hide that he was gay. If you got to know him, you'd know. It would have been easy to discriminate against him. Maybe that's why he never really even tried to start a career, although I think he would have accomplished it had he gotten his MBA. (When I finished my own MBA, I dedicated it to Doug. That, more than anything, is why I did it; I somehow wanted to carry the torch forward, and I consider it his accomplishment just as much as mine.) I remember him telling me once that he had moved to a different city in Utah, and was looking for a place to live. At one point, he went to inspect a house that had two existing straight roommates. He liked it, but after he walked out, he overheard--and he believed that this was intentional--the two boys making derogatory remarks about gays. They had no intention of ever rooming with him.
If you're rejected from society, discriminated against in housing, limited to low-wage jobs, never find what you want most in life--the romantic partner of your dreams--and never find a social niche to nourish your powerful mind and give you emotional support and encouragement and inspiration, when you ultimately have no one to rely on but yourself and you receive steady messages that you're worthless, how long can you last? How long would you want to stay alive in such an apparently cruel world?
A very close friend of mine, after hearing about Douggie's suicide, said to me that there are so many ways to start over. I will never, ever forget that. I was really hurting from Doug's loss at the time, and my friend was right. There are so many ways to start over. It applied to Doug. It applies to us--all of us. There are so many ways to start over. Surviving life *requires* us to become heroes.
People cope with great suffering in different ways, and those ways might vary over time. Some of us get angry. All of us get frustrated. Some might get depressed or anxious. Others might overeat, take drugs, hoard, beat their pets, attempt suicide, or any number of things. It's impossible to compare suffering acrosss individuals. The same events might trigger radically different responses in someone who is resilient and someone who is vulnerable. I think Douggie did the best that he could for a very long time, but got to a place where no one could reach him, and I think that all of us who knew and loved him feel--and are--responsible for that.
We're all in this life together, and our time is limited. I don't know how to react to the incredible hostility that MJ directs against me. The articles that he, himself, cites, if you read them, cite contradictory studies, thus invalidating their purported headline conclusions. I don't desire to argue to win an academic debate. My point is much simpler. Gay men are being harmed through overt acts and neglect. Lesbians are being harmed through neglect and overt acts. And if either group thinks that they have it bad, I shudder to think about what it would be like to be transgendered.
MJ accuses me of holding pity parties. I'll give these "parties" up in a second if the universe will give me Doug back! All of us depend on each other. It's all right to make mistakes. We all do. But I like to think that in the long haul, we all want to make our world better--both for ourselves and each other. It doesn't make sense to constantly try to add to others' suffering. We should be doing the opposite. MJ Ridicule Circles don't improve the world, but they do waste time and cause wreckless and thoughtless harm. Stop. If you can't stop the evil within you, what good is stopping the evil outside of you?
I try to understand why there's so much hatred of us. What did we ever do to those who hate us--largely strangers? I try to make sense of it in my own head, and look for evolutionary explanations because it's difficult to imagine why there would be world-wide hatred of gays. The halting nature of improvement (which now stands at begrudging toleration in some countries) makes me wonder whether there are sex-linked genetic traits that prime--even though they don't determine--what results in anti-gay behavior. Genes are rarely the whole story. The environment plays a role. I just want to know to what extent anti-gayism has some type of genetic driver, and to what extent it's learned, so that we can make meaningful interventions to prevent further suicides and untold suffering.
Regarding your fifth point, yes, to call or think of someone as homosexual is to reduce his or her existence to a sexual act, which is insane and obsene. In the academic journal, Sexuality & Culture (2011) 15:80-99, Robert W. Mitchell and Alan L. Ellis published a study entitled: "In the Eye of the Beholder: Knowledge that a Man is Gay Promotes American College Students' Attributions of Cross-Gender Characteristics." They said that when students learned that someone was gay, they viewed him as less likable and more feminine than when they assumed the "default condition," that he was straight. Labels most definitely alter perceptions, and they can cause remarkable harm. I so greatly admire Doug for having had the courage to live openly and be who he was. This dovetails with what a previous lesbian poster said, that homophobia (anti-gayism) is linked to sexism. Yes, it clearly is. The article says that straight males are afraid of being thought of as gay because that would diminish their power. They might engage in anti-gayism to reaffirm their heterosexuality and their claim to power, which has very real advantages. The only good news from the article is that in 2011, the decrease in likeability upon learning that a male is gay is less than it was in the 1970's. But there remains a decrease. Imagine fighting against negative perceptions. You're still the same person. You haven't changed. But how straights see you--and how they treat you, no matter how subtle the shift--changes.
It's hard to try to convey the nature of our predicament as gay men to straight men. Many are accepting to some degree. Many aren't. The involuntary shame and fear that many of us who are gay feel is very real. Imagine being ashamed of having brown hair--I mean, really, truly feeling embarrassed and inadequate, and torturing yourself emotionally over it. It's not that all of us are like this, but some of us--perhaps many of us--are. Hatred directed against us becomes hatred transformed within us and that we then direct, even if unconsciously, against ourselves.
I appreciate every straight male who defends gay men. Each shining example of that adds great light to the world--and hope. It adds a twig to a small fire that, if large enough, could warm the disaffected and hurt and prevent countless gay men and lesbians from suicide.
I want to close by repeating something that I wrote in my earlier thread. It's for straight men. Imagine being gay. Your friends marry and have children. You lose touch with many of them as they get caught up in their own lives. Your own family rejects you. You're the black sheep. You try your best at life, but never manage to find The One, and you're pretty lonely, so you direct your energies into your career, and do the best that you can with the hand that you've been dealt. At the age of 53, your parents have died. Your sister doesn't talk to you; she's embarrassed to have a gay brother. You don't have any brothers. You're diagnosed with melanoma. You've got a battle ahead, and you know that at the end of it, you could die. You don't know if you'll be cured, or fight it for five years or ten, and then lose the battle.
You go to the doctor, and they explain the options. Checking out, you're asked to fill out a few forms, one of which is a card that asks for the name, address, and phone number for an emergency contact. You don't have a wife. There's no name to put down. The thought of inventing a name, address, and phone number crosses your mind in a fit of panic and despair. You want to be spared the embarrassment of declaring that there *isn't* anyone--that there not only isn't anyone to take care of decisions for you should you become incapacitated, but that there isn't anyone to even care. What would the nurse think? "Why doesn't this seemingly nice man have anyone to care about him? What kind of a man is he?" What kind of life would you have to look forward to as you battle melanoma?
Is the situation that I've painted really all that much different from being gay and dying of loneliness by suicide? The circumstances may be different, but the stress and suffering and uncertainty and fear seem all too familiar.
How many straight men have ever had to pause for one second and consider whom to put down on an emergency card?
The real tragedy of being gay is not having an emergency contact to write down. That's what real hatred is. That's what real ostracism is. That's what real invisibility is. That's what "being gay" in America today largely means. And it's unspeakably cruel, and we have to end it.
We need emergency contacts.
The dark side of heterosexist power is that we're not allowed in.
What if it were you, instead of us?
Steve