This piece was originally published in full on SameSame.com.au on the 17th of May, 2016. Available here.
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It was a brittle and cold evening around the suburban centre near where I lived. Five o’clock and the sun was already beginning to set. The streets, usually bustling with energy, were melting away into a more quiet nightlife.
A close friend and I were hanging outside the train station, when she ran into some people she knew. They were big muscled blokes, kicking back and chain smoking. The kind of guys who threw their weight around wherever they went.
My friend also decided to tell them, for whatever reason, that I was gay.
Within seconds of hearing that info, their ears pricked up. They were onto me. They lurched forward, armed with hate and almost cackling vitriol. “You’re gay, huh? You a fucking gay? Why don’t you suck my dick, then? Suck my dick, you fucking faggot.”
In total fear, I ran away, their shouts echoing behind me.
I was a shy rake, not yet out to his parents, and had only just come out to his close friends. I was fourteen years old.
That was to be one of my first direct encounters with homophobia and bigotry, but it wouldn’t be the last.
Even now, in a time of my life where I am so out and proud that I write candidly about sexuality online, I still get scared when I’m dropped off near that centre. Thinking about who might be around, or if I’ll be singled out and targeted. As though my sexuality can be read from a distance, or smelled on me like cologne.
In the decade that has passed, I have experienced many more instances of abuse and violence. Whether it’s slurs spat on public transport, or shouted abuse from strangers, or the slight chink in the expression of an acquaintance when they realise what I am.
Today is International Day Against Homophobia And Transphobia. It’s a day to recognise and stand up against the violence prevalent in our society, which continues to threaten people in the community.
This is a society in which half of all LGBT individuals hide their sexuality or gender identity in public, for fear of violence and discrimination. One in which they are several times more likely to experience mental illnesses like depression. Where children are kicked out of homes and forced onto the street for being who they are.
Several states in Australia still have the Gay Panic defence, meaning that should a straight man decide on a blue Monday to murder you in cold blood, he need only infer that you, a gay man, were trying to hit on him, to have his sentence reduced from murder to manslaughter. And too many in our society continue to try and tear down our beloved queer institutions, like the Safe Schools Program.
While American civilians bicker and moan about whether or not trans people should be able to use the appropriate bathrooms for their own personal bodily functions, said trans people are being abused, assaulted and murdered in the streets. Trans folk suffer vitriol far greater in number than their gay and lesbian counterparts, leading to higher rates of mental illness.
The Russian government continues to silence the voices of sexually and gender-diverse people, refusing to acknowledge them as human beings, jailing them for speaking out. And in far too many countries to this day, simply living, as a gay person, will see you killed by members of your community. Sometimes even by law enforcement.
All the while, gay men still clutch their ears and block out the fragmented echoes of the AIDS crisis, grappling with the sense of masculinity imposed on them by heteronormative society, rejecting one another in episodes of internalised homophobia for being ‘too femme’ or ‘not masculine’.
And, of course, we still can’t get married. Bloody hell.
I think of these facts of life, and they hurt me. I am wounded by the reality that this world doesn’t fully cater to my kind. I fear for trans people and worry for gay people and struggle to comprehend the lack of acceptance by members of our very own government.
But I also know that things are changing.
Since that grim day being abused by men in the street, I have met others who blocked out their memory with kindness. I have met straight people – muscled blokes, who throw their weight around – that embrace me with warmth and kindness.
I believe that through love, charity and expression, and the occasional burst of well-channelled outrage, we can change the way society views our people. That we can create a safer community, one devoid of the trials our forefathers faced, for LGBT youth to grow up in.
If you’re gay, or trans, or any other shade of sexuality and gender-diverse, who might be struggling with confusion and fear over what you are: know that you have a vibrant community standing behind you.
IDAHOT is a day to show our support for those who have suffered, and remember those we have lost. Gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, queer and intersex. All of the colours of the pride rainbow.
Let’s stand together in solidarity, and help build a better world for our young people. Let’s stand tall, proud and strong.
We can save lives.
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