As someone who’s spent a fair amount of time learning about words and their contextual weight, I can’t help but wonder: what if we changed the word marriage to a different, less powerful word? What if suddenly the word marriage in religious books and church doctrine became as meaningless as 50% of the nation’s heterosexual matrimony? What if we replaced the word marriage with a word we can all be happy about, a word (or two) without negative consequences or stipulations, a word like ice cream?

Isn’t this a good idea? No? Allow me to present my case:

• Ice cream comes in tons of flavors, just like the human population. And although some combinations seem better suited for one another, any flavor mixture will be unique and sweet and delicious because, well, it’s ice cream. Some fantastic flavors had to overcome great hardships to be recognized and eventually popularized. Do you think Spumoni was embraced right away after the Italians cast it aside? No. Chocolate and Pistachio––along with their kids, Fruits and Nuts––fought for years to secure their rights. Do you think Vanilla and Chocolate were always allowed to swirl? No way. In fact, until 1967 the vanilla-chocolate swirl was banned in 16 states.
• Ice cream is fundamentally basic: sugar, cream, ice. And little differences here and there add to the diversity of flavors we all enjoy. It’s fine if you only like your ice cream a certain way. Maybe you always order Strawberry and Vanilla, and nothing anyone says will change your mind. That’s great. And if someone in line next to you orders Rainbow Sherbet and Coconut, it won’t affect you in any way; you can continue to eat your ice cream the way you want.
• Even the lactose intolerant have options. Let’s say you’re a totally intolerant person, and you look around at all the ice-cream combinations in disgust and indignation. These combinations shouldn’t be allowed, you think, and it doesn’t feel right. Maybe Jesus, the Latino ice-cream truck driver, told you these combinations were bad, that they went against everything ice cream stood for, and you’re angry. You have the right to be angry. You have the right to speak out about your anger. But maybe you stop listening to Jesus and his truck for a moment. Maybe you decide to see for yourself what ice cream is all about. You could always introduce yourself to those new hippie neighbors, the Soy Scoops; perhaps that nice healthy couple from your child’s soccer games, the Sorbets, would like to come over for dinner. Suddenly you realize that, wow, ice cream isn’t so bad. These flavors and varieties seem great, maybe even normal. What was I so mad about?

This all seems a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it? It might be. But it’s not half as ridiculous as the injustice currently pervading this country.

Grow up, live your life, and eat your own damn flavors.

Tags: homophobia, gay marriage, ice cream

There are, I assume, times in everyone’s life in which an opportunity to say or do something important and transcendent arises, a time that will likely come about only once in a lifetime. Yesterday I had such an opportunity, and I somehow allowed it to pass by in what will surely be one of the biggest personal disappointments of the year, if not the decade.

Please allow me to explain what happened. I was walking to work yesterday, a slightly wet but otherwise tolerable day in downtown Seattle. I was late (as usual) and had been held up at a crosswalk directly across from work, on the corner of 5th and Seneca. I stood, as I do every morning, frantically looking both ways for traffic while simultaneously dodging the gaze of an impatient boss peering out the window. Next to me stood a middle-aged man wearing a backpack and cap.

As I waited for the light to change, I saw across the street my coworker and friend Thong, a Vietnamese immigrant and fun guy to work with. As you can imagine, a name like that makes him a very good sport, and we all have a good time giving him a hard time. Running late himself and seeing me stuck, Thong began jogging toward the entrance, flailing wildly as if to mock me for being at the mercy of the automated traffic light. The following conversation took place immediately thereafter:

Guy next to me (referring to Thong): “F*cking faggot.”

Me: *silence*

Guy next to me (loudly): “God hates you!”

Me: *silence*

Guy next to me: “You’re going to hell.”

Me: *silence*

(The light changes. I head to work in awe.)

I am, without question, staunchly passive-aggressive, and I avoid major confrontation wherever possible. But this time a flood of comments and questions filled my head, each seemingly more urgent than the next:

“You know, that guy is married with a baby. What exactly led you to assume he’s gay?”

“You know that’s all bullshit, right?”

“You know, it’s people like you that make me irrationally hope for the abolishment of religion.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

So why didn’t I say anything? What made me so reticent to speak out against this delusional Fred Phelps wannabe? I loathe this ideology with every fiber of my being, yet I remained silent as he spewed his hateful rhetoric. I offer no excuse for my actions, only an apology.

In many ways, meeting this man was like meeting a unicorn or Santa Claus––they couldn’t ever exist until you were face to face with them. The worst part is that I feared him––not what he might do to me, which could easily have been violent, but his difference from me. He subscribes to a belief and lifestyle I can’t comprehend, and my silence represents the same hypocrisy by which people like him live. I realize now what I missed and what I’d do differently, and I hope this post serves as my catharsis. I owed it to myself.

Tags: homophobia