Growing up in the '80s, years before I knew that Barbara Streisand was a gay icon and to stay out of drinking establishments with multi-colored flags posted in the front window - I knew back then that the adult HumanityCritic would always be accepting of other peoples' lifestyles. No, it wasn't because I had a penchant for wearing my mother's high heels while gazing at a poster of Jermaine Stewart on my bedroom wall. I never sang "It's Raining Men" in subdued tones while taking my nightly shower. I never had any inappropriate erections during one of those "turn your head and cough for me" sports physicals back in the day. I guess I always knew that I'd grow up to be a tolerant adult based on the virus of intolerance around me that my body openly rejected like an immune system. It's weird - I feel as if I've intellectually regressed since adolescence, because I clearly remember feeling that my father's constant "Stop crying! What, are you a queer?" sentiments and my football coach's "Stop hitting like a damned faggot!" commands were simply microcosms of male insecurity. Not only that, but I had a Nostradamus-like gift for pointing out who I thought were homosexuals - the severely closeted variety, giving themselves away by their horrible re-enactments of how they thought a real man should act.(Read more here)
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The "Stop Snitching Movement" is a diversionary tactic for closeted homosexuals(Vibe.com)
Growing up in the '80s, years before I knew that Barbara Streisand was a gay icon and to stay out of drinking establishments with multi-colored flags posted in the front window - I knew back then that the adult HumanityCritic would always be accepting of other peoples' lifestyles. No, it wasn't because I had a penchant for wearing my mother's high heels while gazing at a poster of Jermaine Stewart on my bedroom wall. I never sang "It's Raining Men" in subdued tones while taking my nightly shower. I never had any inappropriate erections during one of those "turn your head and cough for me" sports physicals back in the day. I guess I always knew that I'd grow up to be a tolerant adult based on the virus of intolerance around me that my body openly rejected like an immune system. It's weird - I feel as if I've intellectually regressed since adolescence, because I clearly remember feeling that my father's constant "Stop crying! What, are you a queer?" sentiments and my football coach's "Stop hitting like a damned faggot!" commands were simply microcosms of male insecurity. Not only that, but I had a Nostradamus-like gift for pointing out who I thought were homosexuals - the severely closeted variety, giving themselves away by their horrible re-enactments of how they thought a real man should act.(Read more here)
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