You Cannont Change the Hearts of Men

We've already discussed the trials of the queer. But I have to get this off my chest. I know this person who hates queers. Now I'm not talking about the entire world population or you know the South, but just one person. This person would say that what I'm saying isn't true, or at least when it comes to me. I know differently. 

This person I know, we are kind of stuck, because I like his family. One of his sisters is one of my best good friends and we interact more than once a year. I'm not surprised by this. It doesn't bother me that he doesn't like homos. I learned long ago, before I came out to my parents, that you cannot change the hearts of men, especially when they hate. The most insidious, inky-dark thing about this hate is that it has its basis in religious thought and belief. For most it's a moral question. Hard to answer and hard to argue. Hell I don't really even blame him for hating the gays. I do, or at least I hate certain things about the community. Deep down in my heart of hearts I can't fault him for having a prejudice. We all do. I am especially impatient with people who come from countries say east of Poland and south of Russia. My brother even hates me being gay, despite the fact that we grew up in the same house and ate at the same table and really think in a pretty same way. 

This person who hates me being gay, he couldn't believe my brother played football, much less I'm sure from the condescension in his voice could he believe I grew up with any type of masculine presence. Now I don't have rainbows shooting out of my ass or anything, but I'm not butch. It took me a long time to get over that, to realize I wasn't going to "pass" the entire time. I've already said there are things I do that my brother can't. Like stay in a hospital room watching our grandmother die of cancer, or take care of a grandparent who has had a heart attack, or not condemn people for bad choices that they make. I don't call him a prick or a dumb ass for choosing to be homeless in college. He's called me a faggot and my sister a whore. At least he used to, more often that you should ever use those words to someone. My brother never lost friends over something he couldn't help. I doubt he was ever made fun of in school. He had my father's attention because he played sports. Every season where he was on the field the life of our family revolved around him. Including several of my and my sister's birthdays. I'm not saying that I didn't have the opportunity, but there was never a question that one of us may want otherwise. When my parents out ted me to him, he didn't speak to me for two months and still doesn't. He doesn't say much to anyone in the family. That is another blog. 

But my brother doesn't sling hate in my direction in thinly veiled jokes either. He at least has the decency and the courtesy to do that. I'd like to say this makes this other person look small. And it does. I'm no better, but I know I'm a prick, I don't hide it. I don't say something and hide behind "Just kidding". So not only does that make him a prick but a coward. He should do us both a favor and not speak to me. I won't lose sleep. As it stands now I'm tired of slinging mud back and coming up with a quick response hiding behind a Cheshire grin and steely eyes. You can hate me, but do it for something I can change (i.e., making fun of people, not moving out of the way, cussing, being a huge prick). It's cool. I may be a sissy, but at least I'm not a coward.