Getty Images
March is anti-bullying month. You may recall the “It Gets Better” and “No H8” campaigns. Milwaukee’s had a couple of local projects to raise awareness about LGBT people and promote equality. There was Cream City Foundation’s “Gay Neighbor Campaign” and, more recently, Diverse & Resilient launched “Acceptance Journeys.” Both used billboards and bus signage to call attention to the reality of LGBT people in our midst. They intended to break down barriers and promote better mutual understanding and acceptance. It was hoped these efforts would foster harmony and reduce bullying both by individuals and institutions. I’m not sure what impact these have made but certainly, along with other social and political gains, the social environment and life in general have improved for LGBT people.
Still, bullying persists. There’s tacit, if not blatant anti-gay bullying perpetrated daily. One finds it in the oddest places, even within the LGBT community. There it’s known as “self-loathing” and it manifests itself in both subliminal and overt ways. So it was one gorgeous summer day, when I was out enjoying American’s favorite pastime, playing softball, as part of our local gay league. You may not be aware, but, back in 1978, Milwaukee was among the five founding cities of the North American Gay Amateur Athletic Alliance, the umbrella organization for LGBT softball. Currently, there are dozens of leagues throughout the U.S. and Canada. There’s even a gay softball world series. Milwaukee hosted it three times, most recently in 2009. So there we are. I’ve been taking photos of the games for around five years. Nearby, members of another team, at least a dozen, were seated around a pair of picnic tables. I took shots of two guys who apparently preferred not to be photographed. One of them exploded with a tirade of “F” words, including “fag.” Now, in the gay community, the pejorative “fag” or “faggot” has never been raised to the level of popularized usage as familiar address as say, the “N” word among certain African Americans. When someone says “fag,” it still resonates with all the hate and prejudice as it did during the worst days of gay oppression.
Actually, the last time someone called me a fag was back in the 1980s, in Fort Worth, Texas. A passenger in a pickup truck yelled it at me while I was walking down the street. When I mentioned it to a local friend he shrugged. “They do that here,” he said in a drawl. It was Texas after all.
And those players around the picnic tables? They later confessed the situation made them so uncomfortable they just turned away. Thanks, guys.
