Manifest Manifesto

So a good number of people I know on Facebook are sharing around an image depicting a letter from a father to his gay son today. It is heartwarming and a shining example of tolerance.

But I will not share this letter myself. Not today, anyway, and certainly not linked to the original facebook posting (put forth by the brave souls at FCKH8.com)
Here’s why.

For the record, I support the sentiment, the letter, and the hypothetical father and son. I was going to forward on the message, hoping to boost my own algorithmic exposure to LGBT posts and images over and above my deep and abiding admiration for George Takei.

Then I saw the following idiotic comment in the stream.

“We will have more Dads like this when you females stop having babies with guys that are not like this. Hate is hate, no matter what form it’s in.”

Despite the poor construction of the comment (and the deplorable use of “females” instead of “ladies, but that’s another rant) this one pushed a big button for me.

Enough so that I’ve now wasted your time reading to this point, and am about to take up some more. This is my own portion of the universe, and I get to talk about pretty much whatever I want here.

So listen up, you primitive screwheads!

I am sick and tired of apologizing for my gender. I realize that simply looking the way I do I’ve hit a big part of the universal Pick 6 jackpot. But at what point is it even nominally acceptable to climb on a soapbox when expressing agreement with a concept such as a father’s love for his son?

At what point is a hypothetical woman’s decision to have a child the source of intolerance? How did the majority of our species somehow become responsible for a minority opinion?

And in what universe is spewing hate in a comment thread otherwise dominated by love justified by the words, “hate is hate, no matter what form it’s in?”

There are an infinite number of better places to draw a line in the sand. I happen to have been standing in this one for too many years to abandon my position, even as the ocean of time pours in over my fragile bulwark.

So here’s what I want people who will never read these words to do. Think of it as my own brand of soapboxing.

Stop blaming me for the actions of other asshats. I have plenty of my own problems, and hold numerous opinions that may make me a less than ideal person in your eyes. Dislike me for those, instead of your own flaws reflected.

Never, EVER, blame a woman for the actions of a man.

Start treating our fellow travelers with a modicum of respect, and don’t assume you are not part of the problem.

Don’t be a pinhead. Be the kind of person who asks their son to pick up Orange Juice when they bring their boyfriend over for a visit.

End Trans.

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