I know how it feelsAn artist in his twenties speaks out on being gay in 2003
Rejection: He is no person; just a sicko; no feelings at all so many friends and family lost.
Damnation: Gay, homosexual; straight to hell; do not pass Go; do not collect R250 and do not defend yourself, the churches decided.
Insult: Komposstamper, moffie, faggot and mofgat are words I still hear.
Suspicion: Hide your kids; hes gay he must be a paedophile.
Homophobia: Hes threatening our narrow heterosexual life, lets go bash him up to show we are better than him, we are men.
Prosecution: Sodomists, sexual offenders ... throw them in jail.
All this is so often part of the choice so many of us have made.
Yes, we are sick, sick not to have denied ourselves and did what was expected; so much easier to get married, be accepted as normal, have kids and get divorced in a few years because there is nothing to keep that relationship alive.
We are sick to have decided to be part of a community which is so often rejected by the very people that should know you are still the same person they knew before you came out of the closet, before the word gay made such a difference.
Sick to be in a culture
where hurt and happiness are so much part of you that you sometimes have difficulty separating the two, hiding everything so that nobody can see you squirming inside; where meeting a life-partner often seems as possible as finding gold under the rainbow;
I am mental
because I care about people that dont give a shit about me;
I am probably sick because
I know what it feels like to dance through the night, in the rain, walk around naked in the bushes, to live, to spend time with people that care about one another; I know what it feels like to love somebody, sometimes somebody who doesnt care;
I am sick because being gay is no choice to me, it is me
it is the only possible way I can connect to people emotionally; it is the only way I can ever share my life with somebody of my own gender; mental because I often get emotionally attached to somebody when I know better, when I know the chances are so slim of its lasting; because I know what and who I like sexually and what and who not, and because I know relationships are not just about sex.
I might be sick, a mental case, so many things, but I would rather be a mental case than be a pretender for the rest of my life.
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