I am a Freedom
Fighter.
My message is
Freedom. Freedom from everything, freedom for everyone, and freedom to be.
I was never on
the “inside” and when occasionally invited in I was uncomfortable having to put
on a coat and gloves for the chill. I was forced to be outside. But I never
stood looking in the window motioning for someone to open the door and let me
in. I ventured to explore the world outside. Being gay and growing up in a
small town at a time when it was still unacceptable has given me an incredibly
mysterious gift and curse. I can’t say I’d ever change my sexual orientation if
given the chance for I would be a completely different person all together. An
easy ride would not take me down the road I am on.
In elementary
school, they said I ran like a girl. Walking up to bat, throw, or kick in gym,
classmates would yell “easy out”. I didn't have the skills for ball games. I could run and I was fast. I always placed 2nd or 3rd in annual sprints throughout public schooling. Amazingly enough, I was good at more competitive sports like hockey - much to everyone's surprise. Perhaps I was more motivated to race my classmates for the puck. They were always a little taken back by my sudden aggression played out during.
Although I was known to be gay or
different, I was still rumored to be involved in sexual trysts with skanky
girls. To my uneducated peers I was just a pervert. This strange aura I wore attracted
the curiosity of a rebellious troubled sort in middle school. He was my first
hard crush. He taunted and teased me in a way that was oddly sexual, oddly bully-ish.
By high school we had wandered in different circles. Any association with me
had become too uneasy for most by this point. In retrospect, I think he had an
adolescent flirtation with bisexuality, but this is my story not his.
So I
introduced myself as a high school freshman by bleaching my hair strawberry
blond (it was kind of orange). A fairly rebellious act as this was before the
boy bands of the late 90s made it a trend. I was nicknamed “Goldie” and enjoyed
my controversial celebrity status. I believe this is when the narcissism kicked
in. I enjoyed making up things about myself just to see what absurdities my
peers were willing to believe. None of these stories were flattering, quite the
opposite. I made myself the celebrity, school the tabloid, and my classmates
the losers reading it. When I couldn’t get into Journalism class, I found a
direct route to writing for the school paper. I wrote to the editor of the
state newspaper who published the county school paper. I was able to get my
pieces published in the school paper (more often than the journalism class) and
the state paper. I used this perfect outlet to tell the school exactly what I
thought and how I felt about them, while of course doting on myself (Read those article clippings here).
Everybody was pissed and miffed by my blatant “in your face” diss. One
coach/part-time teacher read the article to his class and all but insisted I
stand in front of a firing squad. Prior to this, I had exercised my teenage
angst by setting school trash cans on fire (sad attempt at burning down the
school), a fist fight, and setting off firecrackers in the stairwell to mimic
bombs (it actually sounded like an air raid). Needless to say, I stood like a
pleased fan of The Anarchist’s Cookbook watching the terror of my
schoolmates running around aimlessly. Now the idea of terrorism seems to be in
opposition to the fight for freedom. But doesn’t every waged war hope for
freedom? I have since evolved from that boy who acted out of fear and hurt.
Growing up, I
was really skinny and insecure about it until I arrived at the gay bar. So when
I put on some weight I felt a little more comfortable. My personality had to
shine through because I couldn't rely on my boyish charm and innocent looks
anymore. So my sense of humor came through and won people over. I felt more
masculine. And the real me (I was insecure about sharing) was accepted. People
often mistake me for being vain. When the truth is I am working out my own
issues and insecurities through sharing. I do not share pictures of myself
because I think I’m hot or sexy and seek validation. I seek acceptance of self
by not hiding. I have what has been an ethnically confusing face and a body
that has fluctuated from scarecrow to twink to cherub to man-boy. So, I have a
love/hate relationship with my weight. But I think the "hate" is from
external forces.
As a new adult,
I came out to the world outside my hometown. I had that deceptive idyllic notion of
the gay bar as being this happy wonderland where I would be welcomed with open
arms. As if I had finally, found my tribe. Truth is, I don’t have a tribe. There
isn’t a group of people like me. I wasted too much of my early adulthood
searching for such a tribe. When the gays tried to label me “twink” or exercise
their preconceived notions based on my youth and appearance, I rejected them. I went to the club to dance and participate in the theatre of it, not to hook up. I
still did things to stand out. I wore "art" shirts and did odd things to my hair that entertained me. I danced on stage by myself. I danced to music
no one else would get up for.
I was in a waffle shop around 3am after a night out of wearing some fairly flaming attire for Halloween. There my partner and I were accosted by some local rednecks with rude anti-gay slurs. I denounced them all as trash. There was no way I would concede on a stare-down with a 300 pound man who didn’t like being told he was trash. My passion was greater. I was confident I was not their ideas, he was not so confident he was not mine. He eventually took his seat.
Living in the
south (northern Florida), for a couple of years I experienced a twist on the
traditional white vs. black type of racism. The white people were so afraid of
being accused of racism; they allowed the black people to be the exception to
any rule. The black people at my place of work were not held to the same
standard and it wasn’t exactly a hidden truth.
I am all about equality. Equality has no exceptions. I of course did not stand
for this inequality. It wasn’t long before my use of the word “ghetto” in
reference to a black co-worker’s attitude was turned into a racist rant. Explaining
the origin of the word and its usage saved me from ultimate demise. Afterward,
my supervisor sent me the Ebonics Dictionary --- to reference diverse
communication? I still can’t justify that act. However, later when a co-worker
voiced her disgust in a meeting over Disneyworld’s “gay days” stating “That’s a
family place!” management merely shrugged. I also became a member and lead
coordinator of the Diversity Committee which appalled some. But what better way
to educate the alleged ignorant?
I’ve been fired
for being gay (Read that story here)
and I’ve combated the evils of jealous gay managers and closeted gay
co-workers at Ricoh. There, was the kind of homophobia that manifests from jealousy and by bitter gays who are unable to mesh or integrate into “straight society” in the same fashion as I am able to do, for instance. I was unapologetic about being myself, loud and proud---and that always rubs certain people the wrong way. It was someone’s fear of being outted or likened to homosexuality that ignited the spark that burned homophobic fires again. Ricoh is a place where otherwise hopeless bottom feeders get hired to do menial tasks with constant harassment from their under qualified and inexperienced management team. Thus, creating a cesspool of misery. In the end, I realized the torment and suffering of some individuals who caused me harm. For they have not the freedom I do. They are slaves to societal norms. I retracted plans for revenge and left them with their envy.
I have studied
Christianity and Buddhism, taken up Yoga, and vowed to be a better citizen of
the planet all at my own pace and never to be trendy or righteous. I
have always been an optimist. I guess you could say, I rarely let people see my
private pain. I rarely share my troubles or worries. And instead put out all
that is good with me – happy go lucky I am often known to be. I do not share my
spirituality to preach or act as a guru, but rather to help myself stay on the
path. I do not share my writing to insinuate mine is the work of brilliance,
but rather I share my story through it and even in fiction lies elements of
truth.
I always felt
society expected people like me to apologize for having ambition and
determination. There are going to be times when you are not
liked and are treated like you have a curse. Telling the truth, standing up for
what’s right can be a lonely way of life.
Much controversy has been made in my presence and of course it has
never been my style to avoid that. I am not afraid of controversy or being unpopular.
People have been afraid of losing their jobs by mere association with
me. As a writer, I must write about my experiences. The only way to be free is
to put the truth out there.
I must tell my truth.
I must let them know of my humanity.
I cannot stand silent.
I cannot cower.
How would civilization ever move forward if we all just kept quiet and
stood in line?
I do not like or follow those who are merely famous, talented, popular, beautiful, acceptable, or the like. My heroes have always been the rebels, the outsiders, the controversial, the game changers --- And like them, I will always dance to the techno beat of a different synth; until the hour my heart gives out from exhaustion.
I am in debt to no one but myself; for all the time I doubted and discredited myself.
As I get older and approach my mid-thirties, I live more for simplicity. I allow what is natural, to be. We spend our adolescence imagining what we want to be and our twenties trying to be that. The time of creating oneself passes for the time to be oneself. I am freer from what people think and comparing myself to others or the ideals of what and how I should be. I can’t really say I’m the best at anything --- but I do know that no one does it like I do.
I am no longer searching, no longer yearning. I know what I have to do. My place,
my path --- it's so easy; to be good to others (and forgive my foes), to be
grateful (for what I’ve been through), and to be generous (to those on the
other end of it). That’s true freedom!
