Making Myself A Safe Place For Me (Part Two)
Unpacking why I felt so much homophobia toward my own self...
Homophobia. We usually think about it as it relates to conservative preachers, a good number of GOP mom groups, young right-wing podcasters, and millions of very real and very fake internet trolls.
I've battled all of those homophobic stereotypes on one occasion or another throughout my writing career. While I know it's a common thing for closeted Christians to often project "their struggle" as hatred toward those who are un-closeted, that has never been my story. I've never felt fear or disdain or hostility toward anybody or anything LGBTQIA+, as least, as it related to people and ideas that weren't me or my own. Knowing I wasn't straight never caused me to hate others or feel the need to limit others. Not once have I ever voted against those with whom I knew I belonged. And to the best of my ability, I have always tried my very best to use my influence and my privilege and my writing skill to advocate on behalf of LGBTQIA+ people and against the groups and the individuals and the elements that deemed to cause them harm. Now, I'm sure I was not perfect in that quest--I certainly could have done more--but standing up to homophobia has always been a quest.
But despite all of those good intentions, I'm still a homophobe, one who has hated his own gayness for a very long time.
Last week, I began writing about homophobia as it relates to myself and my own struggle to fully accept myself. My personal homophobia is a kind that I have picked up since my childhood, a kind that I have kept on reserve internally and weaponized toward myself for my own self diminishing. Today, I share what that looked like and the reasons I felt so much fear toward myself.
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