That’s So Gay

“That’s so gay.”
Had I, at the first moment I heard this statement, had the ability to comprehend even a fraction of the implication of this, I would have cried. I would have bawled; I would have cried harder and longer than I ever had before.
I did not cry.
Because I did not understand it. I did not understand why ‘happy’ should mean stupid, or why ‘homosexual’ should mean ‘disgusting’.
All I understood was that ‘gay’ meant ‘different from us’.
I’m not sure I even understood that. All I knew was that the crowd thought it was disgusting, so I must too.
I laughed at it. I used statements like, “That’s so gay,” or “What a fag.” I groaned at the mention of anal sex, and I drew conclusions of homosexuality when there were none.
You know how long I went on like that? Over a year. Over a year of blank, unintelligent, reasonless hatred.
And then I woke up. I don’t remember when, I don’t remember how. I just remember that once, I hated them. And suddenly, I didn’t.
Now I am so ashamed of myself. Ashamed of the hatred that I helped to plant. Ashamed of the intolerance that I helped to shape.
Ashamed of the love that I helped to destroy.

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