The Stranger is Human

#TumblrBoy #Gay #Traveling

I watched as the pile of rocks grew taller and taller on top of my neighbor’s roof. It was a small town, and everyone knew that the gay protesters were scheduled to take the streets next week. Anger filled the air. All of the male residents had fury in their eyes. In fact, most of their time was spent discussing where to get rocks, and how to best throw them at protesters. I was 14 years old at the time, and I was terrified. Silently, I observed the preparations. Softly, I listened to the hateful comments and death wishes fall from their lips. I knew I was gay, so I was terrified by the amount of time and effort people were willing to put into intentionally hurting other human beings. Even killing them. I laid awake every night, praying to the Christian God, the voodoo gods, (insert any) god, asking for them to save me. On the day of the protest, my aunt and I stood on the balcony, watching as the pile of rocks became smaller and smaller. My aunt did not allow any of my distant cousins to throw rocks from our rooftop. Consequently, they went somewhere else. My aunt firmly believed, "He who is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone.” As I stood next to her, I started to question God, humanity, and self-acceptance. I did not receive a reply from God, but the perseverance of the gay protesters who continually fought and bled for their cause taught me the true meaning of humanity and self-acceptance. Being yourself is always worth it, especially when you are faced with cruelty. Love always prevails over hate.

 https://medium.com/@TiMaiou/union-s-drunk-thoughts-a6985c854065#.ddkjgsolo