The last time somebody called me a "fag"...
...was about an hour ago . I wasn't doing anything particularly queer at the time -- unless you count deadheading marigolds while wearing a shirt with a rainbow coloured heart that reads Kill it with Kindness across the front. Oh, and I had on that Egale Human Rights Trust rainbow wristband. And the shirt. And, of course, I was gardening. I used to hear that word all the time -- daily in fact -- a little over forty years ago in an all-boys Catholic middle school. That word and "queer," "fairy," and "gay boy," pretty much everyday for two years. It was mostly because I stood out: soft spoken, polite to teachers, Protestant (in name only), good at drama and music, and bad at sports. The last one was a killer: Not only was I bad at hockey and football in a school that was as passionate about sports as it was about Catholicism; I had the temerity not to particularly care. That's right. A red-blooded Ca...