Internalized Homophobia is a Bitch!

Those of you familiar with my feelings on secret Facebook groups already know how I feel about them in general. They are typically the creation of one of more Dramatic Kweens looking for a personal echo chamber to boost their own egos. I only join for theNormally, I don’t get too involved in the day-to-day carryings on of the group. There are not enough hours in the day to soothe the desperation of those who post a selfie every five fucking minutes, nor am I going to respond as to whether you should be smashed or passed (if you have to ask, it’s a pass). I am not going to waste my brainpower on pseudo-intellectual debates on the relative merits of Aries vs. Capricorn (Aries are better, DUH!), nor am I going to answer mildly invasive questions about whether I’m #TEAMTOP/ #TEAMBOTTOM/ #TEAMVERS, how big my dick is, whether I eat ass, or what my fetishes are. By the way, if you search for your so-called fetish on X-Tube,and number of matching videos is in the triple digits, I’m sorry to inform you, but…Recently, Ya Brista was witness to some Facebook foolishness that just needed to be called out for its sheer fuckery. You know nothing pleases me more than calling out people’s bullshit. Today, in one of my groups, this video was posted…

The comments on the video were genuinely heartbreaking. They referred to this kid as a punk, a sissy, even a faggot. They suggested that he lacked masculine role models in his life, or that he was being influenced by Bravo TV. They admonished him to stop acting like a little girl; he needed to play with his GI Joes or PlayStation and stop playing with dolls.

The saddest part of this whole affair was that the ones who were making these horrible comments were homos themselves. It was sad to me because the very same people who had lived through the taunts, the teasing, or even the outright hatred, were dishing it back to some poor unsuspecting kid getting his life for just one second during the Black Expo. It was sad to me because I was that kid.

While I never worked the runway at the Congressional Black Caucus Fair, I did play with dolls as a child, much to the (not always silent) consternation of my father. I used to play with my sistser’s Candy Doll so much,she complained to my mother and at some point I was forbidden from playing with it. While it never escalated to the verbal violence that many gays report in their family, my parents’ displeasure that I preferred Candy to the football was clear. Perhaps the most hurtful thing that my mother ever said to me was that it would just kill her if I grew up to be some sissy. It was for that reason that I never revealed, to her or anyone else, my biggest secret: Long after I stopped playing with dolls, in my dreams and my fantasies, I was a superhero, and that superhero was a woman.

Peter Parker, Clark Kent, and Diana Prince are the identities our superheroes adopt to conform to society’s expectations. To the best of their ability, they do what is expected of them and attempt to blend in. Spider-Man, Superman, and Wonder Woman are the truest expressions of who they are as people, their fully-realized selves. What did it say about me that my truest expression, my fully-realized self, was a woman?

As a kid, I did not make those existential connections, but I did internalize the message. I needed to act like a man. We don’t play with dolls, they play sports. We are Spider-Man, Superman, or Batman, not Wonder Woman, and we certainly didn’t promenade down the aisle at the NAACP Black Family Picnic.

It is unfortunate that those of us in a position to support the next generation cannot see how we have internalized the negativity, the fear, the homophobia of others. I love my mother to death, rest her soul, but she was wrong. So is every mother, and father, and uncle, aunt, pastor, cousin, or friend who made us feel like there was something wrong with us when we were just just kids, living the fullest expressions of ourselves as we knew them at the moment.

All of that said, I cannot claim the absolute moral high ground here. When I first saw the video, I was a little shocked. This little kid was parading around the Convocation acting like a girl. My basest instinct said that was wrong. My internalized homophobia reared its ugly head, however briefly, then I came back to my senses, because over the years, I have learned the cure.

The cure for homophobia is simple. In fact, the same cure can be applied to racism and sexism, as well. Even better, it works whether it’s internalized or externalized. Are you ready for it? Are you on the edge of your seat?That’s right, whenever you are confronted with a situation, consider whether the words you are about to speak will be hurtful to the intended recipient. If so,But Dominion, you say, that’s my opinion.Think of all the social problems we could solve if everyone just learn to keep their goddamn mouths closed! Ultimately, no one is here for your opinion, and therein lies the problem with Facebook, in fact, much of the internet.

The written word is a powerful thing. When people see their thoughts and opinions in print on Facebook, they believe in the power of those words and/or images, when really it’s all nothing more than a passing fancy. In the long run, no one is paying attention to you, so get over yourself. Your problems with this kid’s perceived lack of masculinity are giving you heartburn, while he is trying on lip-gloss at the MAC counter, which speaks way more to YOUR OWN lack of personal growth than the kid’s.

It’s quite possible that the kid in the video was just going through a stage. Maybe he was just having a good time at the moment, and years from now, he will look back on the video and be mortified for any number of reasons, because that’s what we do as we get older. Maybe he will grow up to be the biggest kween in all the land. Either way, your negative words and actions will do nothing to make his life better, so you’d be better off keeping your opinions to yourself, because they could make his life worse.

Like Sophia says, “Who cares?” That kid is still getting his life and you are still vexed about it, so ultimately, who is REALLY the one with the problem?

As usual, there are at least a few of you who will be upset by my words,I don’t really know what to tell you. Oh yeah, I do…