When people use the word "community," it bothers me.
Well, that's not entirely true.
When somebody speaks "for the community," it bothers me.
I should mention, of course, that I am in the gay community--the unspoken part being "whether I like it or not." There are other communities I choose to be a part of--arts communities, communities of friends, etc.
--But I'm also in the gay community, which, in and of itself, sometimes feels like a hundred different smaller sub-communities.
What bothers me about people speaking for the "community" is that I sometimes disagree with them simply because I don't like the idea of anybody speaking for me.
This all started when I was in high school and a HUGE Eminem fan.
I remember militant-looking lesbians representing GLAAD condemning Eminem and his hate-speech. They condemned him by saying "The gay community feels--"
And I used to jump up off the couch in my basement where I watch TRL and say "YOU DON'T SPEAK FOR ME!"
Then a 98 Degrees video would come on and I would calm down a little bit.
I remember looking at those angry GLAAD lesbians and thinking "I'm not like you. I don't want to be like you. You have no sense of humor."
And if you know anything about me, you know that me thinking you have no sense of humor is possibly the worst thing I can think about anybody.
So I started talking about that. I started talking about how lesbians have no sense of humor. Specifically lesbians, because it always seemed like it was the lesbians speaking for some gay organization. This also caused me to grow up thinking that gay men sucked at organizing things or speaking on the news.
When I would talk that way--about lesbians and how I didn't like them and why--I would do it quietly, at first, because I thought I would get in trouble. I thought somebody would call me homophobic. I mean, I was being homophobic, wasn't I? I was talking negatively about a group of people based on a broad generalization and all of those people happened to be gay.
What difference did it make if I was gay? It was still homophobic--at least that's what I thought.
But the more I talked, the more I noticed people going out of their way to NOT say call me out on being an asshole. It seemed like people thought I had a right to talk this way just because lesbians are women who like women and I was a guy who liked guys. Somehow this gave me the distinct pleasure of discriminating against lesbians, and admittedly, it felt kind of cool--only in that way where you feel cool after you learn that you can do something that other people aren't allowed to do.
I thought it was kind of cool that I could say "fag" if i wanted to. That if I got mad at another gay guy I could just call him a "fag" and then turn around and see straight people around me looked confused.
"Wait, isn't that the word we're supposed to use to make THEM feel bad? What do we do now?"
It felt good and it also felt like--Okay, so maybe I'm gay and that kind of sucks because I'm seventeen and I'd rather not have any characteristic that makes me stand out from the crowd, but at least I can yell "Fag" in the hallway at somebody else and my teachers can't give me detention because I have--
What? What did I have?
Gay immunity?
Here's a gay joke I can tell you: Any gay joke.
It's like that Seinfeld episode where Jerry thinks his dentist switched to Judaism for the jokes. It seems outlandish, but people love that episode because secretly everybody would love that--to be able to say whatever you want, but more so, to be able to criticize whoever you want for being who they are and have it be okay.
It was awhile before I realized that I am not entitled to use the word "fag." Because I can't make a decision that it's okay for me to use a word that my community has decided is harmful regardless of who uses it. I still believe that others shouldn't speak for me, but I don't think I have the right to speak against others the same way a homophobe would and think it's okay because I'm--
What?
Part of the community?
Maybe that's more of a responsibility than I initially thought.
Well, that's not entirely true.
When somebody speaks "for the community," it bothers me.
I should mention, of course, that I am in the gay community--the unspoken part being "whether I like it or not." There are other communities I choose to be a part of--arts communities, communities of friends, etc.
--But I'm also in the gay community, which, in and of itself, sometimes feels like a hundred different smaller sub-communities.
What bothers me about people speaking for the "community" is that I sometimes disagree with them simply because I don't like the idea of anybody speaking for me.
This all started when I was in high school and a HUGE Eminem fan.
I remember militant-looking lesbians representing GLAAD condemning Eminem and his hate-speech. They condemned him by saying "The gay community feels--"
And I used to jump up off the couch in my basement where I watch TRL and say "YOU DON'T SPEAK FOR ME!"
Then a 98 Degrees video would come on and I would calm down a little bit.
I remember looking at those angry GLAAD lesbians and thinking "I'm not like you. I don't want to be like you. You have no sense of humor."
And if you know anything about me, you know that me thinking you have no sense of humor is possibly the worst thing I can think about anybody.
So I started talking about that. I started talking about how lesbians have no sense of humor. Specifically lesbians, because it always seemed like it was the lesbians speaking for some gay organization. This also caused me to grow up thinking that gay men sucked at organizing things or speaking on the news.
When I would talk that way--about lesbians and how I didn't like them and why--I would do it quietly, at first, because I thought I would get in trouble. I thought somebody would call me homophobic. I mean, I was being homophobic, wasn't I? I was talking negatively about a group of people based on a broad generalization and all of those people happened to be gay.
What difference did it make if I was gay? It was still homophobic--at least that's what I thought.
But the more I talked, the more I noticed people going out of their way to NOT say call me out on being an asshole. It seemed like people thought I had a right to talk this way just because lesbians are women who like women and I was a guy who liked guys. Somehow this gave me the distinct pleasure of discriminating against lesbians, and admittedly, it felt kind of cool--only in that way where you feel cool after you learn that you can do something that other people aren't allowed to do.
I thought it was kind of cool that I could say "fag" if i wanted to. That if I got mad at another gay guy I could just call him a "fag" and then turn around and see straight people around me looked confused.
"Wait, isn't that the word we're supposed to use to make THEM feel bad? What do we do now?"
It felt good and it also felt like--Okay, so maybe I'm gay and that kind of sucks because I'm seventeen and I'd rather not have any characteristic that makes me stand out from the crowd, but at least I can yell "Fag" in the hallway at somebody else and my teachers can't give me detention because I have--
What? What did I have?
Gay immunity?
Here's a gay joke I can tell you: Any gay joke.
It's like that Seinfeld episode where Jerry thinks his dentist switched to Judaism for the jokes. It seems outlandish, but people love that episode because secretly everybody would love that--to be able to say whatever you want, but more so, to be able to criticize whoever you want for being who they are and have it be okay.
It was awhile before I realized that I am not entitled to use the word "fag." Because I can't make a decision that it's okay for me to use a word that my community has decided is harmful regardless of who uses it. I still believe that others shouldn't speak for me, but I don't think I have the right to speak against others the same way a homophobe would and think it's okay because I'm--
What?
Part of the community?
Maybe that's more of a responsibility than I initially thought.
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