Standing up for the Right

If you're at all like me, you have grand, grand plans. You've gone through far too many scenarios in your head for when something unjust is being done, whether to you or in front of your eyes. There's a secret part of you that almost wants to be outed so that someone will call you a fag and you can just say "Yes," and walk away, leaving them wondering why they didn't hurt you. 

Maybe a year ago, I was utterly infatuated with the only other gay guy in school. He's closeted, but it's an open secret to the point that I've overheard girls debating if he's really gay or not. In that darkest, bravest part of my heart, I dreamed that one day some bigots would begin to bully him when (conveniently) I was the only one around, and I, in my 125 pound glory, would step in and save him and he would love me and we'd end up married in Paris.

That's how we view our coming actions, right? We plan our crusades, and we know that when the time comes we will be the hero the world needs. First we'll stop a bigot, then save a life, and then cure AIDS, cancer, and unhappiness, and then bioengineer unicorns, because gays deserve unicorns, dang it!

It all seems so possible when you're lying in bed awake at night. 

I, at least, am useless in person right now. Sure, I write a gay blog on the internet, and I have a novel-in-progress about equality, and I have a secret love story (not romance) I want to pen called Adam and Steve, and and and. Most of these things aren't done, and what I do do is so little.

Then I get to school and someone calls something gay. I just keep walking. In Conservative Christian County here, even teachers say it. And what do I do? Nothing. Sometimes I want to write an email to the counselor under a pseudonym telling her that there are gay students who could be hurt by comments. But then I worry she could trace it to me, both by the fact that I have a relatively unique writing voice in the school and because I'm as flaming as a closet case can be.

So I don't do that.

Then I think I'll write the email when I come out in the future. But that won't be for a long time. My plan is to let my parents know sometime after I no longer depend upon them at all financially and sometime before I get engaged. Which will be a while.

So I can't do that.

So I don't do anything.

My best friend is much, much better. You really ought to see her. I remember clearly when some idiot freshman made a comment that all gays go to hell, and she became a beautifully terrifying Valkyrie. She flew at him with both scripture and science, and he actually changed his view somewhat and apologized a few days later. It was glorious.

I did nothing, of course.

Maybe it isn't bad that I do nothing sometimes. I mean it really is best to hold your tongue when the other option could actually place you in physical danger. But I've certainly done less than I should. It isn't that we all need to champion gay rights, but we all ought to champion peace and love and tolerance. And I don't. As wonderful as my plans are, I don't.

The point is, we don't always do what we can. But we need to try something. My friend is a beacon of tolerance. I try through this blog, and I hope to succeed in my novels. One day, I will write that email to the counselor.

I don't always do what I should. But that doesn't mean I can stop trying.