Straight people are the boiled carrots of humanity, and they don’t deserve to be in the same plate as a juicy sirloin steak. (In this analogy, the juicy steak is the LGBTQ community.)
But before I go any further with this cishet slander, I have to admit that I am not referring to all straight peopleonly 98 percent of them. However, if you’re a straight person who is reading this and you feel slightly offended, please do continue reading. This article is about you.
I am officially done with befriending and building personal relationships with heterosexual people. I don’t want to be a wingman, a makeup artist, a life coach, or that one “queer best friend” they bring up when they’re being called out for being a problematic anti-gay piece of shit. This year, I vow to completely wash my hands of heterosexuals. Hopefully, this will cause less stress in my life, which means less stress eating, more weight loss, clearer skin, and an opportunity to live my best queer life without the stress of a straight person who just saw two men holding hands on TV.
My experiences with 98 percent of the cishet community has been the same throughout my entire life. First, they love me no matter what my sexuality is, then I’m a “disgusting faggot” who will surely burn in hell. That’s right: that has been my experience with many of the heterosexual people who I have had the displeasure of meeting or calling my own family. I’ve had this experience with my father, some of my aunts and uncles, cousins, and all of my former heterosexual friends.
My experiences with all of my former straight friends is quite similar to that of TsMadison and Khia’s friendship. One minute they love us because we’re giving their pathetic livesand in Khia’s case, her pathetic careersome significance, the next minuteas soon as they’re angry with uswe’re being misgendered and called a bunch of anti-gay, anti-trans slurs.
My auntwho we will refer to as Aunt Old ‘N Dustyis the perfect example of how fucking disgusting 98 percent of heterosexual people truly are towards queer people.
When I was 19, my aunt came to my door with a dilemma: she needed an updated resume for a job opportunity. The only issue was that I had to fudge the resume because the only job my aunt had ever worked in her century-old life was sucking the welfare system dry, shoplifting the cheapest shake-and-go wigs from our local beauty stores, and being a homophobic piece of trash with no life skills or decorum.
The fraudulent resume I built for her got her the job, but I needed a job, too. I quickly fudged my own resume and submitted it to the same place as her. It didn’t take long for me to begin working alongside my Aunt Old ‘N Dusty at an after-school program designed to give elementary school aged children in a low-income community homework help.
Before I go any further with this story, here’s a fun fact about my Old ‘N Dusty aunty: she considers herself to be an LGBTQ ally. According to her, nobody loves gays, lesbians, and drag queens more than herand by “drag queens,” she means transgender women.
However, her being a so-called LGBTQ ally did not stop her from calling me a “little fag bag” as a kid because my voice wasn’t as deep as hers when I was six years oldand it still isn’t, although I’m a full grown 24-year-old man. Her being a so-called LGBTQ ally did not stop her from saying, “If his father wasn’t in jail, he wouldn’t be acting like a little sissy” because I didn’t want to play football with boys twice my size. And her being a so-called LGBTQ ally did not stop her from calling me stupid ass names like “fudge-packer” or a “fruit cup.”
A month into my employment at the community center, a rumor about me and a co-worker spread like wildfire. According to this rumor, my coworker and I were having hardcore intercourse with one another in front of 23 eight-year-old program participants. That’s rightmy aunt spread a rumor that my married, heterosexual coworker and I were fucking like two gay porn stars in front of little innocent kids, and she claims to have saw it with her own eyes. My supervisor did not take this rumor seriously, nor did me or my co-worker, not until my supervisor accidentally revealed that it was my aunt who spread the rumor.
That’s just one of many experiences I’ve had the displeasure of having with weird, sex-obsessed, homophobic straight people. Want to hear about another one? Let’s talk about my father, who once told me that he wanted me to have sex with one of his sex worker woman friends for my fifteenth birthday. He wanted me to prove that I was not gay. He feared what people would think about him and what having a queer son would do to his street credibility.
As a result, he treated me like shit. Each time he called me a faggot or threatened my life, I just wanted to rip my heart out and set it on fire while it still beating. Each time he called me a faggot and threatened my mother for accepting me for who I was, I wanted to drown myself in boiling water; I wanted to watch and feel as my own skin detached itself from my bones and melted away slowly. I wanted to die 100 painful deaths just because I could not be the son he wanted me to be.
The worst part about 98 percent of straight people is that they’re all different and yet all the same. The only difference between my Old ‘N Dusty aunt and my middle school bullies was that she’s much older than them, and that she’sas much as I hate to admit itmy family. The only difference between my father andthe late 14-year-old Giovanni Melton’s father is that my father’s threats to murder me was only threats.
Also, none of my former straight friends are different from one another. None of the friendships ended without homophobic slurs; it never mattered how many years we were friends or how small the argument was. It always ends the same: with me being a faggot, a sissy, or a “dick-in-the-booty-ass-nigga.”
And that’s not due to there being a lack of other hurtful insults they can say: I’m fat, my lips are huge, my beard gets super dry sometimes, and the list goes on. However, when they drop the F-bomb, they feel a surge of power, a sense of triumph, perhaps the same feeling they get after they pull up their pants without wiping after taking a shit because good hygiene is “too gay” for them.
Again, this post is definitely not about all straight people.
I have had seriously great experiences with heterosexual individuals who did not resort to homophobia as soon as we got into an argument. However, the bad certainly outweighs the good. I’m not trying to convince anyone to not associate with their heterosexual counterparts; I’m simply doing it for my own sanity.
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