The fear I have is ridiculous and paralyzing. Especially because what I'm trying to write about is the need to overcome fear and the comfort of invisibility. But when it comes down to it, invisibility is comfortable. It feels safe. At least in its immediacy.
What I'm afraid of, exactly, I don't know. My own unknown, I guess. Hate. The unpredictability of people. But my fear turns me into a hypocrite.
What I want to say is that fear of the unknown breeds hate. Hate breeds fear of being known. Repeat.
A new civil rights revolution is brewing. It's upon us, whether you're a part of it, fear it, or don't even notice. It's crept into mainstream TV and movies. Nonchalant tolerance has embraced our youth. Rainbows, purples, pinks — peacefully and silently, a stronger voice grows.
Orientation slips easier into invisibility than race, but that doesn't make it go away.
Invisibility can be warm, cozy and safe, yet also cold, isolating and dangerous. For a long time, it was safer to stay invisible. Too much hate versus not enough understanding. Invisibility was a matter of personal safety.
Not to say that the south is a particularly accepting and safe place, but… the tide is shifting. Slowly, but it is.
There is no longer power in invisibility. Hiding because of fear gives power to hate and perpetuates misunderstanding. It perpetuates the false idea of being a super-majority. Because we aren't as big of a minority as people may want to think. We're everywhere. We're your daughters and brothers, your friends, your coworkers and neighbors. Gays, lesbians, bisexuals. People.
This article appears in Jun 17-23, 2010.