My boyfriend and I are being way too social these days. We are out way past his bedtime and far too late for me to get up and get things done before I go to work. And I’m used to late hours.
Tonight we met up with some friends from San Diego, hung out, had a few beers, grabbed dinner and then came home. We wanted to be home by 10:00. It’s 11:30 and we just walked through the door. I don’t think Adam is too happy but he’s putting on his happy face.
None of this is really important except that we just walked home from the train together. Holding hands as we always do. And we turned the corner and there were 10 or so kids sitting on the stoop. No big deal. It’s a nice night. We swung wide and went on up the hill. About half way up the hill I heard the word “maricon.” I jokingly ask Adam if I should tell them that I speak enough Spanish to know what they said. Before he had a chance to answer they start yelling “faggot.” It’s been a long time since anyone’s called me that so that I can hear it. We just kept walking.
As I walked home and as I got settled in for the evening I thought of about a million things I would have like to have said to them.
1. There are ten of you on the sidewalk. Statistically one of you is gay. Trust me it’s not the one you think it is. And you would actually know who it is if they weren’t so afraid to tell you.
2. If you spent half as much time trying to better yourselves than trying to tear other people down there would be no limit to what you could accomplish.
3. Do you really think I didn’t know I was a faggot till you screamed it at me. Kid, I was sucking cock before you were born. I was called a faggot before you were born. I think I knew I was gay long before you came along.
4. Do you know the type of prejudism that you are breeding is the same as that of my relatives. It’s the same reason my relatives tell me that because you are brown skinned you are Mexican. And because you are Mexican you are worthless. And because you are worthless you should either be driven back to Mexico or taken out and strung up somewhere. Yes, where I’m from they’d rather I be gay than brown skinned.
These are the things I would have like to have said to them. Instead we walked home. Holding hands all the while.
Enjoying the night air.
The dafodils in the moonlight.
The smell of Spring.
It was a beautiful night.
And I was glad.