I originally posted the following on Facebook on 4 June, 2022. I stumbled upon it and thought now would be a good time to revisit it. (And I still don't like the words "cisgender" or "woke.")
I've been thinking a lot about the fact that this is Pride Month. Full disclosure--I am the following: a) middle aged, b) cisgender (a word I will never get used to using), and c) heterosexual. I've never questioned my sexuality--either my orientation or my gender identity. I've always known who and what I am in that department. However, I am totally sympathetic to those who have had to question it and those who still are--even though it's not something I can ever fully understand. In this politically correct, "woke" (another word I will never get used to using) age in which we live, I do worry that someone may take offense to some element of what follows. And no offense or malice is intended in any way, shape, or form--certainly not toward anyone who celebrates Pride Month.
Growing up in a small, rural town in southern Indiana during the 1980s, the concept of "pride" was never anything that was discussed. Just being gay was considered not only disgusting, but also a sin against God. I'm sure there are many in my home town who still feel that way. Growing up in my town, I kind of got the impression that if you weren't straight, white, Christian, and super conservative Republican, you were "different" and that was bad. I often joked that vegetarians were looked at as an ethnic minority. Now I realize this is a gross overgeneralization and in the thirty years that I've been away a lot's changed. But, as someone who doesn't conform easily (even being straight and white), I never felt like I belonged there. I always felt different. It was bad enough being a fat nerd--I can't imagine actually being gay, trans, Jewish, Muslim, let alone having any kind of pigment in my skin at that point in time.
I remember the first time a friend came out to me. While I was glad he felt like he could tell me, I also didn't care. That may sound cold and harsh, but the truth is it doesn't matter to me. Nor should it. If I'm bothered by someone else's sexuality or if I feel that it somehow challenges or affects my own, then I have a serious problem. The only time someone else's orientation and/or identity should be of any consequence to me is if it's that of someone to whom I'm attracted. And even then, I still have no say or influence on how that person identifies and I would never fault that person for being themselves. I'm sure I'd get over any initial disappointments. I have always felt that as long as you're not hurting anyone, you have the right to live whatever kind of life makes you happy and I will support that right to my dying day.
And while I will admit that sometimes I find it exhausting keeping up with new vocabulary terms (like "cisgender" and "woke") and there are some elements of this whole debate I may never understand (again, mostly centered around vocabulary--like, when did "queer" stop being an anti-gay slur? And, as a straight person, am I even allowed to use it?), I will call anyone whatever name or use any pronoun I'm asked to use just out of respect for that individual. And ultimately I feel that's what the whole thing is about--respect for others. Which is why I don't care how a person identifies. Not only does it not affect me, but I will still respect that person regardless. If we all did that, Pride Month would be unnecessary. I don't have a problem with celebrating it--after all, I enjoy a good parade just as much as anyone. I just feel that if we as a society had been more accepting of each others' differences from the beginning, we could just take pride in being human and there wouldn't be any history of discrimination toward others just because some people didn't fit our definition of what humans should be.
Today, the LGBTQ+SorryIfILeftOutAnyLetters community has a lot of public figures to look up to, particularly in the arts--Lady Gaga, Elton John, Billy Porter, Brandi Carlile, Cher, just to name a few. I feel that the artist behind this week's album is often left out. For the record, he may not be--I just may interpret it that way because he's been dead for almost nine years and the examples I mentioned above are very much currently in the public eye. The late, great Lewis Allan Reed spent his career singing about all those elements of humanity that we've spent centuries trying to repress--cross-dressing, depression and other mental illnesses, "deviant" sexual behavior, even drug use and abuse--he seemed to celebrate it all as part of who we are as a species. Celebrating its fiftieth anniversary this year, many consider this week's album to be his masterpiece. It features not just my favourite of his songs ("Satellite of Love"), but also the only one of his songs I've ever heard on the radio, the classic "Walk on the Wild Side" which "The New York Times" described after Reed's death as a "ballad of misfits and oddballs." The song is even more of an oddball today because I'm not sure it could still be played on the radio. However, I will say it has one of the greatest bass riffs in music history. Please enjoy the one and only Lou Reed with his 1972 album, "Transformer."
Until next week, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.
Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!
The Reverend Will the Thrill
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