Gay voters should blame themselves for Prop 8, not black Californians.
Smart LGBT leaders knew our campaign couldn’t make Prop 8 a “gay” issue.
Must we appear as churchgoers or nationalists to deserve our rights?
In part, Prop 8 failed because of inept LGBT leadership.
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By JEFFREY L. WILLIAMS
Friday, October 24, 2003
Not too long ago, I received a phone call from my friend Jason, who told me to
watch a story on the evening news.
A transvestite from Staten Island had been brutally beaten by a group of cowards
the night before. As the newscasters were detailing the brutal attack, I grew
enraged and scared all at the same time. I knew that even in this day and age
in a diverse city like ours, some people still acted as though they were living
in 1920s Alabama.
It’s hard for me to imagine that anyone could act out this kind of ignorance
and others tolerate it. My heart bled for this poor victim of an unjust society
and my thoughts and prayers went out to the family.
While thinking about the brutal attack, I recalled another news story in which
a similar attack was made on a man thought to be gay. His abusers taunted him
with shouts of “fag” and “queers should die.”
When I read the description of these cowards, however, I was shocked.
They were black men.
I’m not saying that I’m so surprised that some blacks discriminate;
rather, I’m saying that discrimination itself does not discriminate.
I never knew that I was being fed hate when I was young. I would over and
over again hear my mom and some of my cousins talk about the “lesbian
outcast” who shamed the family when she met and fell in love with her
female companion.
At age 10, of course I did not know what a lesbian was, but after learning
what that word meant, I asked my mom why she had talked so badly about Cousin
Janice.
She simply said to me that the lifestyle she chose was not one of God-fearing
people like us. She told me that Janice would burn in hell unless she begged
for forgiveness.
Thinking back on that 12-year-old conversation with my mother, I now realize
that she was feeding me hate. Hate was something that she said was a bad thing,
but only according to whom you hate and for what reason.
More recently, I have been gay bashed and taunted by other blacks.
In 2000, I was dressed in tight boot-cut blue jeans, a tight, fit black tank
top and black platform shoes on my way to a club one evening. I took the A
train from Utica Avenue in Brooklyn to West Fourth Street.
On the subway while listening to my mp3 player, I noticed that a group of
black girls were looking at me and laughing.
Curious, I lowered the volume and heard bits and pieces of what was being
said.
Things like “Look at that faggot over there” and “Oh my
God, his shirt is tighter than mine” were being said loud so the entire
train car could hear. All I did was listen and pray that they would leave the
train before I had.
They did not, and as soon as my stop approached, I heard a huge uproar of
laughter bolt out of their jaws. It was the most embarrassed I had ever been.
At that moment I didn’t want to be gay anymore. I wanted to be normal,
as it were.
The bashing didn’t stop there. After meeting up with my friends later
that night, we decided to walk up to Chelsea to the Kurfew party when we were
heckled and tormented by a couple of ghetto boys in a black convertible. The
words that were being used were nothing that we haven’t heard before,
so we decided to ignore them and show them that we weren’t either afraid
or ashamed of who we were. We continued on our way.
The saying “ignore them and they’d go away” was never more
false than it was that night. Knowing that their words were bouncing off of
us really annoyed the thugs and they decided to make us hear them.
At the next light, they pulled over and got out of the car. When we heard, “Get
over here, fags,” we began to run frantically.
Then we came upon a police officer. Feeling safe, we told the cop what had
happened and that these guys were after us.
The cop looked at us and simply said “You guys are queers, you deserve
it.” After that, they walked away and disappeared into the evening night.
Our evening had been ruined and we decided to go home. The next day we decided
to file a complaint against the officer.
By the way, he too was black.
My experience of black-on-black homophobia is a poignant commentary that discrimination
is neither black nor white. I can barely convey how deeply hurtful it was to
have people who know what it feels like to be thought of as inferior treat
me and my friends the same way.
Being black in New York City in 2003, I haven’t suffered some of the
same pains of discrimination as other black men. I have known what it feels
like to be watched as I walk in a store and to be stared at for wearing clothing
that young black youths are not known to wear.
But that has never really bothered me. I just took it with a grain of salt,
I guess.
I do wish that I lived in a utopian society full of understanding and tolerant
people with no prejudices in their hearts and hatred on their minds. Maybe
one day, we will build such a world. I hope that it comes sooner rather than
later.
Jeffrey L. Williams has been writing since his first year of
high school in 1995. He hopes to become a newspaper columnist reporting on gay
issues. He can reached
at JLWilliams22@aol.com
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