I used to be homophobic

The headline of this post pretty much sums up my feelings toward homosexuals during my youth. However, I did not come by this attitude all on my own. I actually had some help.

I should start by letting you know that my parents never once brought up the subject of people of the same sex becoming romantically involved with each other. This means I acquired no pre-conceived prejudices from them. My notions actually came from my peers.

I wasn't aware that people of the same sex could have feelings for each other until I was 13 years old. The fall of 1978 was when the series "Soap" began its run and featured Billy Crystal as a gay character and he later had a roommate who was a lesbian. While I found this interesting on TV, I never really felt like it was something that would appeal to me. However, I never saw it as something wrong, just something that was unaccepted, very much like it's unaccepted to pick your nose in public, but not exactly wrong.

That perception changed when I was in the 10th grade. One day, one of the cowboy twerps (these were guys who wore the cowboy hats without really knowing what it was like to be a real cowboy, like my grandfather) got it in his head that I was gay. He started by calling me "faggot" when I walked by him. Before classes started one day, he decided that if would be fun to knock around a gay guy and got some of his buddies to join in.

They ran me outside and threw me on the ground. They got on top of me and started punching me around my body for what seemed to be about ten minutes. (It was probably closer to one or two minutes.) At first, no one tried punching me in the face. I just got a few bruises from the first part of the beating, but no broken bones.

Right when everyone had gotten their fill of punching me around, this one guy came up while I was still on the ground and started kicking me in the head. It felt like he kicked me about 10 times while everyone else was cheering him on. I had to keep repositioning myself so he would only hit the back or the side of my head. After it was over, everyone just walked away.

I never had anything like that happen to me ever again. However, it was enough to make me really despise homosexuals. I guess, after decades of reflection, the main problem was that it made me question my own sexual orientation. I had always heard stories about some homosexuals who had been bullied for being gay even though they denied it at the time. However, they eventually determined that they were indeed gay. Does that mean the bullies were more perceptive to that person's sexual preference? Does that mean they were justified in beating them up? Obviously, the answer to the last question is no.

After a couple of years, the bitterness of that beating started wearing thin. Quite by accident I found out that one of those guys who beat me up turned out to be gay. It was the person who kicked me in the head! All those emotions I felt at the time immediately rose back to the surface and they lingered for a very, very long time.

I honestly felt like I was forced to suffer for the sins of homosexuals. I could understand if he didn't want to become involved or try to put a stop to it. However, he joined in. I guess he was glad it wasn't him and took measures to make sure he wasn't next on the list. It still wasn't right. Some would say this was karma getting back at me for that time Rad was locked in the bathroom while I just stood by and laughed.

My homophobia took a stronger hold this round and didn't let go for years. I just knew if a gay man came up and propositioned me, I was going to punch him in the face. I wanted to cause some pain, as much pain as I felt. It was payback time.

This attitude persisted, although it was bit by bit being chipped away. During my freshman year in college, I had heard that this one English professor was gay. I decided to take his class during the spring semester and just be a jerk student to him. I felt it would be some kind of revenge for what happened to me three years earlier.

This professor was an accomplished writer. He had written several books of poetry, was always having poems published by obscure periodicals and was working on a book about T.S. Eliot in which he had access to his papers. I didn't realize it at the time, but he was considered the toughest English professor at the school. If I had known that, I probably wouldn't have taken his class after the drubbing I received from another English professor the previous semester.

The class I took under him had us reading short stories, writing essays and two research papers. During class, I would make all kinds of smart aleck comments and talked back to him frequently. I guess I was doing it so much that it became an automatic response of sorts. At one point, he asked my opinion on one of the short stories. I replied, "I didn't read it," and he went on to the next student. After class, one of the other students said, "Oh, man! I thought he was going to yell at you!" "Why?" "Because the way you told him you didn't read the story, it sounded like, 'I didn't read it, you dumbass!'"

The time came for our first essay. It was supposed to be about our impressions about the first three short stories we read. I didn't put too much effort into it. I turned in the paper. When I got it back, I was surprised to see that he had given me an A-. This was good. Then, he said that out of the two classes he was teaching, he only gave out two A's. I was stunned. This was when I figured out he was a tough professor on grades.

I continued to get A's on the rest of my projects for the semester. This was even though I was being a jerk in class, although that had dwindled down considerably over the next four months. I became familiar with his writings and was very flattered that he saw fit to give my material A's. I felt bad for wanting to be a jerk to him just because he was gay. That experience took a considerable chunk away from my homophobia. I found that I could have admiration for a gay man, just as I could for any other person who was straight.

Many of those chips remained until I was 25 years old. During that time, I had met and worked with many homosexual people. I looked back and realized that for my entire life, I had never had any gay men proposition me and I likely never would. I never really had anything to fear.

However, I still feel little twinges of my homophobia pulling at me from time to time when I meet someone for the first time and determine that they are gay. It wouldn't surprise to find that I might act a little different around gay strangers to the point that they might pick up on a bit of my former self. To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever said anything to me that might indicate that might be true. This is somewhat similar to reformed racists who have trained themselves to tolerate people they once expressed hatred to, but still have a few episodes in which their old thoughts will rise to the surface for a few milliseconds.

In time, I hope they go away completely.