Heterosexual Pride

I’m gay. There, I’ve said it.

Obama came through on his campaign proclaiming June as "Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month". From now on I plan to have a whale of a time every June. The rest of the year I’ll tend to fans and the local sexually-deprived talent. Not only I’m gay but weird. I’m not even a man. So what?

I read somewhere about a crackpot group calling for Heterosexual Pride Month to voice their legitimate moral objections to gays, their sexual practices and aberrant lifestyles. Legitimate? Moral objections? Aberrant lifestyles? Is it legitimate to object when my upstairs neighbors—a guy who works for the local union to show blacklegs and other scabs the error of their ways—dons his six-inch stilettos? Not in my book, though I asked him nicely if he wouldn’t mind replacing his drag with a cute tutu and ballet slippers so I could get some sleep. Now all I hear are whispers when he practices “Coppelia.”

Although a majority of people are heterosexual, they are loath to flaunt their bedroom habits. Blame an ingrained sense of outdated modesty in the practice. I mean, why shouldn’t we discuss the merits of breeches, handcuffs or the good ol’ quenning stool—if that’s what tickles your whatever—with friends, neighbors or passersby? But no matter where I look, when someone speaks about heterosexuality they bundle tradition, boring marriage practices, nuclear family, morals, faith, and religion into it, as if being heterosexual needed justification. What’s wrong with being heterosexual for the hell of it, because one likes the opposite sex and couldn’t care less about what other people do with their bodies?

I find the celebration of heterosexuality bigoted and intolerant. In my opinion, the social mainstream looks down upon those who are different, when there’s nothing wrong with being homosexual, bisexual, heterosexual or plain strange, like me. And there’s nothing to celebrate either; we are what we are, thank you very much. Gay or straight pride is stupid, and akin to furry bush, freckled back or blond-hair pride. What’s to be proud about? I was taught to have pride on my accomplishments, not in something I was born with.

I used to be confused about what I am and my preferences. Not anymore. I’m out of the closet. I’m a butch lesbian in a man’s body.