The voice of De Anza since 1967.

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The voice of De Anza since 1967.

La Voz News

The voice of De Anza since 1967.

La Voz News

Embrace those who don’t have a voice

I am tempted to say I don’t know any closeted homosexuals. I’d like to be sure all the places I frequent and people I associate myself with have the same intolerance for bigotry that I do. I’d love to know those confused as to whether their lesbian, gay, bisexual or transsexual lifestyle was valid would just ask me, to which I’d give a hearty “Hells to the yeah!” When-and if-the world reflects these same values, we won’t need a National Coming Out Day.

  But in a system where homosexuals are beaten to death with metal pipes, and left to commit suicide because their private sexual acts are broadcast on the Internet, and where there is established legislation prohibiting equal treatment all across the planet, I’d say that day has not yet arrived.

   Every Oct. 11 since 1998, rainbow flags fly high, and the ranks of the fabulous strut their stuff in celebration of the day marked for gays and lesbians to come out of the closet. Each year, I wait for the joking from my more flamboyant friends, as they proclaim, “Guess what? I’m gay!” To which all gathered gasp in mock surprise and play along, lisping, “Well, that explains a lot,” or saying “I had no idea,” and, “Hey, me too!”

   As free and open as my immediate surroundings are, I can’t help but wonder about the meek kid with few close friends to whom Coming Out Day might be just another stark reminder of aloneness and alienation. The ones who sit on the sidelines watching the frivolity and imagine how it could be them – if only they had the courage to reveal themselves.

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For every John Waters or Ellen Degeneres shouting, “I’m gay and I’m here to stay,” there may be scores of individuals like Tyler Clementi asking, “Why does being myself cause others to hate and ridicule me? What is the point of living if it hurts this much?”

It is ironic that the term “coming out” is partly based on the older saying of “skeleton in the closet,” because someone forced to hide who he or she really is suffers from lack of the social nourishments of participation and acceptance. Deprived of these long enough, a person’s self worth can wither until it is like a pile of dry bones.

A little welcome attention and support can go a long way. Sometimes those in need gravitate to those who can help. The victim of the bully tries to hang around the tough crowd, the awkward pre-teen girl follows the cheerleaders; look around and try to see who appears to be interested in participating, but too scared.

I am by no means suggesting that on the next Oct. 11, we out people suspected of being closeted without their consent. I suggest that maybe instead of so much focus on joking and celebration, we keep our eyes and hearts open to those timidly skirting the fringes, quietly wishing for acceptance. It could save a life. 

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