and here, i'll contribute more so you know i'm not trying to trap anyone or whatever. it's a bit of a testimony, so bear with it or skip to tl;dr
this last weekend i wentto go to some kind of festival over on the east side at a place called "the little gay shop."
i've never heard of this place nor had occasion to visit, but there it was. lots of vendors selling all sorts of things.
due to some recent events in my life i've had reasons to reflect on this or that from time to time.
anyways, i'm there in the middle of this chaos of sexuality with my wife, and i'm enjoying myself, even as we pass booths selling washable female sanitary napkins. none of this is my scene, really at all. suddenly, someone shows up with some runt of a dog, platform boots, a very elaborately well done make up job, and a huge smile.
he? she? am i worried about that?
no, actually.
it took me a second to realize that i didn't care, as strange as that sounds. i'll never talk to this person outside of a "badass makeup" compliment, and that's pretty gender neutral anyways. it doesn't affect my life except to, for that brief instant, brighten it up a bit because of how much life joy that person was bringing along with them to the little festival at this little gay shop parking lot in little old east austin.
i grew up in dallas suburbia hell. i didn't know it was hell at the time, but i came to know it as such. i was pretty cloistered. white boy, middle class in an upper middle class neighborhood. never hungry but rarely brand name either. also, never church or bible. or prayer. or anything much else to do with god aside from "goddammit." maybe occasionally my dad would wish out loud he was born jewish, "because they take care of their own." but honestly, aside from that, i was told told generally we were "methodist."
i've sought faith most of my life. i'm culturally catholic, even though i converted later in life (20), i still consider it a pretty important part of my identity even if i don't practice. it's hard to explain. i will absolutely get defensive about it. it's weird.
anyways, i grew up with the word "faggot" prominently featured in my pejorative vernacular. it was top 5, you made it there i was really mad at you for whatever reason. 18 year old me that went off to texas in austin had no idea what he was getting into. 18 year old me was pretty sure i knew some shit and i also knew i had a lot of questions. one thing i was sure of, i wasn't gay, and i'd kick your ass if you were and you came onto me or whatever. that kind of pent up toxic shit. anyways, i've grown up, gotten married, had kids, seen the world, gained a ton of perspective, with tons more to gain, and i had to laugh at the idea of 18 year old me traipsing through the parking lot of the little gay shop.
right now, i feel like i have a lot more in common with the person in the platform shoes than i do with many self-professed christians. i was a lot happier in that parking lot with all this weird uncomfortable (for me at times) vague sexual energy swirling around and this very made up person who i should hate because they committed the cardinal sin of dressing up their poor fucking dog than i would be discussing whether or not i am drinking wine or blood or which creed is right.
tl;dr: fuck it yall. be nice. that's pretty much it, ain't it?