The recent tragedies involving six separate young gay men taking their lives because of torment and harassment shows what little progress we have made to insure rights for all people and acceptance for all lifestyles.
The lack of social acceptance and social programs for the LGBT (Lesbian/Gay/Bi-Sexual/Transgender) community caused President Daniel Bradley of Indiana State University to take action and try to develop social programs that seek acceptance and stress unity.
Today marked the beginning of ISU ushering in this new support of diversity.Many students and faculty wore purple proudly and visibly illustrated the tolerance and acceptance already established on campus.
Yet, it is troubling that the tragedies of these six men is what reminded many of us how discrimination and hatred can affect so many people.
I am guilty of being ignorant to the injustices that hinder the growth of the gay community. However, my ignorance stems from the social group that surrounds me.
I have asserted myself to be friends with open-minded and educated people who understand the meaning of tolerance. Plus, I have many gay and lesbian friends that don’t always remind me of the discrimination they face or what struggles affect them from time to time.
But then again, I should always remember. I should always think about the lingering ignorance and festering hate that many people in this country carry with them.
I should know because someone’s lack of tolerance and personal hatred of gay people took someone close to me in 2003.
Returning home one night after a marathon of playing pool with my roommate, I flipped on the TV, which just happened to be on the local news station airing the ten o’clock news. I never watch local news because the only reporting that affects me is the weather outlook. Evidently, there was a chance of severe storms.
My ears perked up as I heard the newscaster say, “A Greene County man was found dead in his home this evening from an apparent shotgun wound, as reported by the Jasonville City Police.”
My roommate asked me how likely would it be for me to know who it is.
“Really good chance, honestly,” I replied.
No name mentioned; No footage of the scene shown; just a talking head again saying, “The Jasonville PD is treating this case as a possible homicide, suspecting foul-play. The name of the victim has not been released, nor had any details of possible leads.”
Just as I had convinced myself I probably didn’t know who it was, the footage rolled on to the screen. The TV was flooded by the hair-raising images: police cruisers, ambulances, flashing lights, gurneys covered in white sheets, men with white latex gloves, yellow caution tape streaming in the wind where it had come undone, medics shaking their heads. Then, I saw a glimpse of the house just as the producer for the news realized the footage was still running even though a new story had taken center stage.
My heart sank. My stomach burned.
“Do you know the guy?” my roommate hesitantly asked me.
“Yeah, he was my uncle.”
Jerry, or “Brud” as his friends knew him, was a close family friend to my father and stepmother. As far back as I can remember about my childhood, Brud was a part of our family’s life. He was as close to me as an uncle could be and a better friend.
He was as flamboyant and boisterous as anyone I have ever known. He had tan skin that looked like leather and his build was wafer thin. His blonde hair needed a touch up from my stepmother every few weeks to keep up the bleached tone.
Brud was quick to have a laugh as quick as he would light a Virginia Slim. He did drink a little too much, but at least he always shared his booze. He would share anything. He would give anything. His kindness was genuine.
Perhaps after a few late afternoon cocktails in the kitchen with my stepmother, he might have stopped me to tell me a dirty joke to pass onto my friends. He might have slipped me a pack of cigarettes when Teddi wasn’t looking. Or, he might just stop me and tell me to keep up the good work at school.
Brud’s heart was huge and he was always made room for more people to come in. He would have given you the shirt off his back if you asked.
And in the end, that kindness became his demise.
Avoiding any detailed length, he opened his house to a stranger that he thought was a just someone down on his luck and needing a helping hand. Instead the man shot him with a shotgun a little bit later
The man who took Brud’s life was never brought to justice; he committed suicide in Indianapolis once he knew the police were on his trail. A few days later itn was revealed that man was a violent criminal and known bigot.
Brud’s senseless murder by an intolerant low-life is just one tragedy in the endless examples as a result of hatred and ignorance. If we do not collectively speak out against such a cycle of despair, we will keep ourselves from ever growing into a compassionate and respectful society.
I know how I have been affected; think about how your life could change.
I learned early on that tolerance and acceptance is part of being a good person. Outside of my parents, many people helped shape my open mind and open heart. These influential people will always have my gratitude; however, there is one person that I will never get to thank.
