All the little Hates add up to This:

While episodes of hate, most recently expressed by Mr. Cathy, the son of Chick-fil-A’s founder, may seem humorous and benign to some, it is the accumulation of these episodes, almost on a daily basis, that encourage letters like the following to be written by a father to his gay son. Every single time one of these episodes occur and the media grasp onto it, a little bit of me dies. I cannot laugh these episodes off or ignore them. They break my heart is why and I have not yet figured out how to stop my heart from breaking.

“James: This is a difficult but necessary letter to write. I hope your telephone call was not to receive my blessing for the degrading of your lifestyle. I have fond memories of our times together, but that is all in the past. Donít expect any further conversations With me. No communications at all. I will not come to visit, nor do I want you in my house. Youíve made your choice though Wrong it may be. God did not intend for this unnatural lifestyle. If you choose not to attend my funeral, my friends and family will understand. Have a good birthday and good life. No present exchanges will be accepted. Goodbye, Dad.”

I don’t think most straight folks, even our strongest allies, understand how this constant chirping and chipping away affects us gay folks. I’m not blaming them, I’m simply saying that waking up most days to a new and hateful diatribe by some right wing or so-called Christian representative who gets media coverage crushes a little piece of my heart every time. And I’m in my middle-fifties.


2 Responses to “All the little Hates add up to This:”

  1. Drew Searing Says:

    I saw that letter on Facebook in it’s original hand-written form which was a powerful and sad reminder of my own father’s hate. After all of these years and after my father finally dropped dead, I AM ALSO FUCKING TIRED OF IT! (Thanks for your thoughts, David)

  2. Jewell Satterfield Says:

    I am always floored by man’s inhumanity to man, especially father to son or mother to daughter. For the record, David, I will love you until I die–and perhaps after that. I have never been dead before, so I really don’t know what my limits might be…. Just wanted you to know. I know my saying that does not validate you anymore than what you already are, but I need to tell you that.

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