A Lifetime of Pain and Suffering

One of the most difficult things about writing for, "No Pride", is the amount of bullying, harassment, and discrimination I have to revisit.

First, there's the direct. Second, there's the indirect. Third, there is all the internal aftershock like pings I feel when talking about my experience with being openly gay.

I've never been afforded a "safe space". I've lived my entire life in areas largely known to be openly and proudly homophobic.

As far as direct effects, I'd have to count all the times I've been called a homophobic slur. All the times I've been told to move or get out of town. All the times I've been threatened with physical violence. All the times I've been made to feel uncomfortable in the workplace, with sexual comments, innuendoes, or jokes made at my expense.

I've come to understand, I'll always be the odd man out. It doesn't make things better, though. Being pointed out for being gay while hosting, "Games with Strangers", or hanging out with friends, doesn't make it easier.

The reason I, or any other person, came out of the closet, was for the one instance.

I did it for the two people, I believed needed to know, first. It isn't a show I perform on a regular basis for others to watch, comment on, or witness. If you weren't there, I can assure you there's a reason as to why. 

Even with some of my friends, I can only define my homosexuality as an oddity.

"Hey, it's GAY Thomas!", which, was funny when I worked at a restaurant with another man named, Thomas. When I started working in a coal mine, being "gay Thomas", wasn't so funny anymore.

Before this goes down a certain road, a preemptive no is in order. No, it isn't my fault everyone knows I'm gay. It would be impossible for me to do so. I didn't even tell the majority of people who do know. Most of it is through word of mouth. I do live in Alabama and of course, everyone feels the need to know who is sleeping with who and every other detail of other people's personal business. Welcome to The South. Don't believe me? Watch, Steel Magnolias then.

I would even go as far as to blame myself for actually doing myself harm by creating this blog project if anyone actually followed what I write here, but I already know, no one does. "No Pride", does not have one follower.

I can guarantee someone will read this post, though. Allow me to break some rules for writing, for just a moment.

Hello there. I bet you don't live in Alabama. I bet you don't read any of my other blog projects. I bet you're the kind of person who would say, "This guy sounds like he's had and/or having it rough.", and then, you won't do anything else. Because you don't know what to do.

I guess I have to say it's okay because I don't have a clue what I'm supposed to be doing either.

Imagine feeling like there's nothing else to turn to for work locally, then making the decision to put as much energy and effort into blog projects, writing projects, and creating a tabletop gaming event for the local scene, working on these projects for almost two years, and still go to sleep every day feeling worthless.

I'd imagine this is why so many gay men commit suicide. There's nothing right here. There's nothing over there either, so quit looking.

Maybe it has nothing to do with me being openly gay, but considering the response I usually get, it clearly has an effect on everything I do. Not because I say it does, but because the stigma attached to homosexuality, is real. Even in 2018, and especially in Alabama.

The real reason as to why I believe nobody close to me follows, "No Pride"? Because they're the same, too. Or worse, they know they've inflicted direct pain on me.

I even have proof of this. Some time ago, I posted a question on Facebook to all of my family and friends. I wanted everyone to ask me a question. "Ask me a question, as if you were interviewing me.", is something close to what I said.

I got one response. ONE. Out of over one hundred family, friends, and persons who are attached to my personal Facebook profile, one person responded.

My friend, Gabe asked, "If I were to interview you I’d want to know, years back when we hung out we used a lot of bigoted language, though never knowingly with hurtful intent. Did that hurt or upset you? And if so, I’d like to apologize."

I talked to my friend, Gabe. I accepted his apology, even though, I don't remember him causing any pain to me directly because of my sexual orientation.

Then, it hit me. Where are the others? Why aren't there more people stepping up and apologizing to me for what they've said and done? I realized it's because along with all the other identifiers I attach to myself, they're cowards. Plain and simple, they're scared.

They don't understand why I vote for Democrats, even though, President Trump allows the military to fire tear gas into a crowd of men, women, and children gathering at the border. They don't understand why I don't believe in God, even though, most churches I've attended are guilty of causing me direct pain and also have made me feel uncomfortable within their walls. They don't understand sexual orientation, and I quote, "I just don't know how you can suck dick!".

I guess, for those who still choose to remain ignorant as to who I am as a person, and willingly choose to focus on what I am instead, I don't know what to say about them anymore, either.