Break the Illusion Blog by Davey Wavey

I’d be willing to bet that in 50 years, we’re going to look back on the marriage equality debate much in the same way that we now view segregated drinking fountains. When we tell our grandchildren about the discrimination that we (or our friends) faced, they’ll react in the same way that I did upon learning my great-grandmother couldn’t legally vote until she was 32.

When I came out to my mom at age 17, she was very much aware of the hardships that I’d someday experience for being gay. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she told me that life is already very difficult – and that she didn’t want it to be any harder for me. Indeed, her foresight was correct. Over the last decade, I’ve experienced a good deal of hate, bias and discrimination for being gay (to be fair, discrimination that pales in comparison to what the gay men and women of the generations before me experienced). And I’m sure my personal stories of discrimination will someday cause my grandchildren to cringe.

But of all my experiences, I think the most disheartening incident (something I briefly touched upon the other day) happened at university during my freshman year. When I went off to university, I decided to be out and open with everyone. It was turning a new leaf for me – and so when I heard that my school was hosting a panel discussion on sexual orientation, I excitedly gathered all my friends – gay and straight alike – to attend.

Other than my friends, I had never really heard people talking about being gay. We didn’t have YouTube or vast online resources – this was pretty much as good as it got. Thrilled with the opportunity, we all gathered at the auditorium early to get front row seats. I didn’t want to miss a word.

The panel discussion had a moderator and a handful of panelists representing students, clergy and faculty.

The priest opened the discussion by reminding the audience that being gay isn’t a sexual orientation – that it is, in fact, a sexual disorientation. That being gay is a disease and disorder that needs treatment. After that, much of the evening was a blur. I do remember though, quite vividly, a psychology student advocating for shock therapy as an effective treatment for “those afflicted with the homosexual disorder.” Her brother, by the way, is gay.

That night, I cried for a very long time.

I had been so excited to finally celebrate a facet of myself that I had finally embraced after years and years of internal struggle. It felt like a bullet in the heart of my soul. People in a position of power – my university itself – had told me that I’m a monster in need of treatment. It was, looking back on my 27-year life, the most painful experience I’ve ever had.

I don’t know how long it took me to move beyond those words. I don’t know that, even now, I’ve fully let them go.

It does, however, motivate me to reach out to people – young and old – in similar situations. It’s one of the reasons that I write this blog and create sometimes silly but often affirming YouTube videos… because a little love can go a very long way.

Related Posts

1. My First Time at a Gay Strip Club.
2. Don’t Get Old. Really?!
3. Day 4: A Photo of Somewhere You’ve Been.