It's a Beautiful Day to Confront Bigotry

So I'm walking down the street with my kids, and it is a glorious day. The sun is shining, Central Park is a glow with lovebirds and sunbathers, Mister Softee trucks have returned to the streets of Manhattan, and everyone is in a pretty outstanding mood.  I'm three blocks from home, when I hear it. "You effin' Irish homo!"

I stop. The stroller stops. The kids lurch forward a bit and then turn around to see what's going on with Mom. "Shut it for once, you Irish homo!" The sound is getting closer and louder and my heart is racing faster and faster. I'm scanning the sidewalk. A guy crosses my path, laughing to himself, muttering loudly "what a homo, that guy." I glare at him. He sees me, he sees my kids, he looks a little sheepish.

"Sorry, he's my pal. I'm sorry." I nod slowly. "Effin' Irish fa**ot!!" He guffaws conspiratorially with me. As if it was less offensive because he was just joking with a buddy. As if he had tamed the sentiment down by switching from "homo" to that other word. And the irony of not using the four letter F-word, but shouting the six letter one on a busy New York street was actually jaw dropping. I can only hope that the look of disgust, the mouth agape, the piercing glare let him know that I don't find this even remotely funny.

Just to make sure, I turned to him and said, "If you don't mind, could you please keep your homophobic slurs to yourself? Because I'm trying to raise two compassionate, caring, accepting young men and I don't need bigots like you poisoning their minds with your twisted and hurtful brand of humor. The punchline in this case is generations of men, unable to live their lives in an honest and safe way because dickwads like you have been bullying them since grade school. You live in New York City, man, and this is Hell's Kitchen, gayborhood du jour, so watch your dirty mouth. Because this 'effin homo' won't tolerate that kind of stupidity. Not on my watch." And then everyone around me erupted in wild applause and the man decided to devote the rest of his life to combating bigotry in all its terrible forms.

Except that's not what happened. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I said absolutely nothing. I stood there, paralyzed and pissed off and waiting for my brain and my mouth and my anger to sync up and do something. With every ounce of my being, I wanted to ream him, right there on the street, right there in front of his buddy and about 100 other New Yorkers. But then he was gone, leaving only a wake of ignorance.

The bad news is, that man still thinks it's cool to shout homophobic garbage in ear shot of other people, and that he can do so without consequence. The good news is that now I have a script. Now I feel prepared. And I know that silence feels terrible. And silence in front of my children feels irresponsible. And silence for my community is shameful. I never thought I'd be confronted with homophobia, not in my neighborhood, but it's everywhere, still. And the only way to stop the trickle down of bigotry from one generation to the next, is to be loud and clear in its opposition.

Next time, I'll have something to say.

Photo credit: Joe Shlabotnik