Most of us are aware of the intensely antigay Westboro Baptist Church, which has staged public demonstrations for nearly two decades, claiming everything from hurricanes to AIDS to the Iraq war is divine retribution for our country's tolerance of homosexuality. (Check out its subtly named website, GodHatesFags.com.) But who among us can say he's given church leader Shirley Phelps-Roper a primer on bagels and lox?
Over the 3 1/2 years that I've been writing the blog Good as You, I've had the opportunity to engage in e-conversations with so many antigay activists my in-box is starting to look like it was transplanted from Mike Huckabee's computer. And while heated discussions with these "pro-family" types about our theological differences (and their predictions of my future residency in hell) have certainly occurred, they have also surprised me with their kindness, genuine concern for my well-being, and sincerity.
I've had higher-ups at Focus on the Family eagerly offer me a tour of their Colorado Springs compound. A prominent "ex-gay" advocate invited my partner and me to a family dinner. Other times, someone who has publicly denounced gay life and gay love will write to tell me they found a quip I wrote about them to be witty and spot-on. The common message seems to be: "We hate everything you have to say, but we enjoy the tone with which you say it."
That's why these folks, whose work I challenge on a daily basis, are so willing to be my friendly acquaintance. When penning an unapologetic condemnation of homophobic, heterosexist rhetoric, I never attack my adversaries' character but rather their chosen positions. The terms bigot and hatemonger are not in my arsenal. Instead of being a flamethrower, I prefer to toss the antigays' flames aside and take a piss on them.
It's one part strategy, one part sincerity. While it's true I made a deliberate choice to take a more pacifist approach, it honestly feels more like that tactic chose me. When I entered into this "culture war" debate, the stones just felt wrong in my hand. The more I studied the fight, the more I began to feel that victory would come by highlighting the slings and arrows that are directed toward our community, not by regifting those weapons in a pro-gay fashion.
Those on the antigay side want to dislike us. They need to believe our minds are "reprobate," so as to justify within themselves the all-out war they wage against our "chosen lifestyles." The robber to their cop, the Joker to their Batman, the replacement Dreamgirl to their Effie--we've been cast as the hurdles on their path toward happily ever after. But by refusing to let them get away with their polarized portrait of good versus evil, I force them instead to address my refutation of their logic. They can write off other confrontations as an exchange between the wicked and the righteous, but I don't give them such an easy opportunity to trivialize my words.
This may sound like capitulation to some. However, I think it's exactly the opposite: By engaging them human to human, I've gained a unique entrance into the hearts and minds of our most vehement foes. It may be presumptuous and self-adulatory to say so, but I can't help but believe that when they lie down to sleep at night, all quiet in the world around them, some of them might question their views because of me. They might not completely come around to my way of thinking, but they sure as hell aren't going to write me off as a demon-possessed heathen whose words they'll simply relegate to the "hater" file.
When you have truth on your side, there's no strategic need for defensive aggression. So I don't yell at my gay-unfriendly pen pals. I tell them in a fair but firm voice: "You have no way of winning because you've chosen a losing position. Wanna go have some coffee and discuss your inevitable defeat?"
