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I'm poor ... I'm black ... I might even be ugly ... but dear God I'm here ... I'M
HERE!
--Celie, The Color Purple
I have seen "The Color Purple" too many times to count. I used to
think I love it so much because it is simply a great movie, or because it's
one of those "chick flicks" that tend to be so popular among women and gay
men alike. However, I find that the more I watch this movie, the more I am
able to see parallels between the character Celie and myself, as well as the
lives of many other gay men and women around the world.
For those of you who haven't yet seen "The Color Purple", it is
definitely one that should be at the top of your movie list. It caused
great controversy because of its portrayal of black men, as well as its
insignificant, superficial treatment of a loving sexual relationship between
two of the main characters. However, I believe that these controversies
only cloud a deeper issue -- one that speaks to all people who are made to feel
less because they don't measure up or conform to the ideals of certain
individuals or society in general.
The majority of gay people know what that is like. I remember being
called a "faggot" and a "fairy" even before I knew what it meant. But it
didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out it was something negative and
eventually I came to learn its significance. The worst was knowing deep down
inside that they were right. I was a "faggot". I, an eight year-old, bent my
head in shame and accepted my persecution. Teachers didn't intervene. My
parents rationalized it: "if you don't like it, learn how to defend
yourself"; "stop playing with the girls"; "play sports like the other boys"; be
tougher, fight back." All of this reinforced what I was being shown in
school: this is your fault. You are the problem. There was something wrong
with me. I was different, deformed, evil, and I had a dirty secret that no one must
ever know.
At an early age I lost my self-esteem and willingly accepting a punishment
for the crime of being different -- the crime of being me. As I grew older, I
became a social pariah and the target of unending teasing. During lunch I
used to walk as fast as I could to the back of the stadium announcer's
booth praying I didn't start to sob before reaching it because no one must
see me cry.
But I finally did let someone see me cry -- my mother -- because the torment
and isolation was just too great. I was able to attend high school 25
miles away. This just subconsciously reinforced what had already been burned
into my psyche: you must be sent away because you are unacceptable, unlovable. You should be glad anyone talks to you or is your friend. You
are only deserving of being used by certain boys for meaningless, secretive
sexual encounters, because no one loves "faggots".
I could also sense how my father was ashamed of me, and could feel it in his
verbal and physical abuse.
Much like the character Celie, I was told and showed my whole life I
was nobody. I was made to feel that I was nobody ... that there was something wrong with
me .. that when people looked at me, they only saw what I wasn't. Luckily I was
raised with God in my life. I truly wonder if I would still be alive
today if I hadn't been. But even as a member of the Roman Catholic Church I was told that
even God despised me and that people like me were destined for hell. So God
doesn't love me either?
All through my twenties I floundered between two extremes -- total denial
and flagrant hedonistic abandon -- neither of which could give me back the
love that I needed to stand up and be strong for me. But now, I am starting
to find that love once again. Just as Mister took away the only person who
ever loved Celie, her sister, Nettie, the world stole from me little by
little the love I had for the wonderful human being I have always been.
Instead of seeing myself for who I was, I was taught by others to see myself
for who I wasn't. I know that has affected my life in ways I am sure I
will never fully comprehend.
But most importantly, religion and those so-called "Christians" and
their rhetoric stole from me the most important love I could ever feel -- the
love of Christ. I now know I am not evil, defective, or unlovable. I now know
God made me this way because my suffering will allow me to be more loving and
compassionate toward those who have been beaten down by a world that is blind
to the incredible people God created them to be. If we don't speak up, our gay
brothers and sisters will continue to be persecuted and killed in the name of
our Father. We need to stand up and realize that the love that we thought
wasn't for us was right there all along, and that His embrace is waiting for
us in the sunlight of the horizon.
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The Color Purple
starring Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover
Also In This Issue:
Out With a Passion: An Interview with Richard Rossiter
God is Still Working in My Life
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