Such a terribly unpleasant parallel. The email at 7:30 from The Girl that put a smile on my face and warmth in my heart, a feeling that is totally natural and utterly right. A feeling that is the first stage of, maybe, falling for her, me, a woman, with her, a woman. Her, a woman, with me, a woman. The same pronouns, similar features, but in the moment all I think about is the sweetness of her words and of the thrill they send through me. I'm not thinking - not about pronouns, definitely not about sin and moral outrage. There's just the joy of falling sappily and illogically and viscerally for a girl, a woman, half a continent away.
Then hatred to tear the smile from my face and replace the grinning warmth in my chest with an aching cold. Men on tape with this biting, cold hate, angry fear, a freezing fever of poisonous logic. They offer explanations that sound almost believable in the depth of their convictions for why it's right, sound, even morally required, to hate... me. Which is why it hurts so much, why it's so strong. These abstract gays and lesbians these men are so bitter about. The downfall of a country brought about because I dare fall in love. Because I dare talk about it. Logically I don't believe it, I pity them for their fear and their narrowness of vision, but it hurts and no amount of logic takes away the pain of knowing that somebody who has never known me hates me and the people like me, an odd and disjointed community of people I'm just beginning to understand and relate to, just for having the courage to be who we are. It hurts.
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