“Don’t Say Gay” Meets Learn to Love You

As I understand Florida’s Parental Rights in Education Bill, it states children should not be taught about sex in public schools until “Forth grade.” Okay, big deal. I had it in fifth grade more than 50 years ago.

But, for some to call this same piece of legislation, the “Don’t Say Gay” bill just because they object to it is a pathetic stretch of the most dangerous kind of propaganda.

Adding insult to injury, those opposed to this bill are giving young people confused about their sexuality the silliest reason to end their life by suggesting this bill, awaiting the signature of the governor of Florida, would lead to more kids killing themselves.

When I first heard of the bill it caught my attention because I read the words, “Don’t Say Gay.” I wonder if the geniuses who coined this term considered some homosexuals hate the term gay.

As a homosexual, I do not care for the term gay in describing my sexuality because it is presumptuous. I do respect others who prefer the term. But I am not happy nor proud of my sexuality. And that’s a fact the magic of words can not change. Conversely, I can be proud and/or happy about how I conduct myself as a homosexual.

Now, at the risk of sounding like a hoe, I lost count of the number of homosexual men I have encountered who would not describe themselves as gay. They are embarrassed by how some have chosen to conduct themselves. I am not opposed to the effeminate. However, I agree that some who prefer to identify as gay are quite embarrassing. Also, I object to the term LGBTQ. Simply put, I am not an acronym; I am a person.

I am also 65 years old or too old to subscribe to the many other ways one might prefer to be identified by when it comes to sexuality.

I vividly recall sex education being “taught” when I was in fifth grade. The teacher went through the subject so fast, if Evelyn Wood had been my classmate, I could hear her shout, “Teacher, slow down, girl.” I learned zero from my school’s mandatory sex education, and therefore had no real homework to try on a neighbor girl that liked the way I kissed, ironically, something I learned from a neighbor boy.

The seriousness of suggesting this proposed Florida law could lead to kids taking their own lives is so dangerous, I must confess that I did think of doing that when I was 26 years old. One of the things that helped me was something that kept ringing in my ear from a heterosexual friend. A year earlier, I asked him if it was wrong to be homosexual. He responded: “I am not a judge.” Until then, I did not know how heavy of a weight my sexuality had become because I sure did feel that weight lift off me from my friend’s statement.

But, in the process of learning to accept myself as a person, the weight was back on my shoulders to the point that I felt I could not please God and be a homosexual. I concluded that if I can’t please God with my innate homosexual desires, I did not want to live, period. So, why did I continue to live? As I mentioned, I recall what I was told by a friend, but I really do not know why I chose to live. But I sure have had a lot of fun and sex since I decided to live; this includes 18 years of celibacy.

40 years later and counting, some advice: I hear noise about my sexuality from those who love me and those who hate me. But I only listen to the God who created me, and I have never heard God say he hates me. And if you still feel hated, you need to learn to love you.