On Haters
A hater came into my Pride event Tuesday. Their specific purpose — I felt — was to make me uncomfortable in a space I had built… one they felt excluded from, even though it honestly has been more like self-imposed exile for them, due to repeated bad behavior on their part. But their goal of jostling me worked.
After a night of awkward smiles and side glances, I went home fairly livid, and I picked a fight that week with my best friend from high school. On Thursday, as Pride weekend kicked off, I left my home tired and stewing with paranoia. Theresa and I went to two bars that night, and in both instances, I looked around the venues feeling like everyone could have been saying rude things. A dark cloud had descended over my Pride festivities, and it came to a head later that day when I picked a second fight with my aunt. My mood shifted then, when she told me she paid that one forward to her maid, and my mind circled back to things I’ve known forever: that anger and bad vibes just have ongoing ripple effects.
I successfully shifted gears after that night, focusing instead on showing off my fabulous Pride creations, and giving as much love as a person can over the weekend to every single human I saw. So many hugs and incredibly meaningful conversations with truly amazing people who I am so grateful for having in my life.
The thing about haters is tricky. In the past, I’ve somewhat ardently denied their existence. “Who dislikes Saul – no one! He’s so nice and accommodating and tries so hard to make everyone feel included!” Yes, I do try very hard. But it is just such a fib to say the story ends there. I don’t like acknowledging their existence because doing so highlights that some narrative exists at all. People want to know who it is. They want to know the tea. What is the drama, who caused it, how much of the pot has been stirred, and how often. It also assigns words and judgments of situations that generally were quietly ignored beforehand… pejorative assessments of how bitchy or selfish or umpteen other observations people care to make about each other. Made even more tricky in the past year+ because my employers read these posts now, along with an ever-growing audience and customer base.
It behooves me in many cases nowadays to simply stay in my lane, even when things just feel so unfair. But to say this person didn’t provide a productive experience would be a lie. In fact, some of my most productive work, both professionally and internally, has been because of people who so vehemently oppose who I am. If you are reading this and dislike me, you should flat-out understand that those feelings make me want to take that one poster you probably saw and make it two of them, or ten. Why have one weekly event when I can have five? And why — when you might show up at my event — should I not make my presence known at, gosh, just every part of this gay community?
This attitude of mine transcends into so many areas of my life and my identity as a gay man. One of my parents learned their lesson several years ago, for example, when they more than once told me to change my outfits at family gatherings. Well, of course, I was like, “OK sure, I’m sorry I had those pink booties, tank top, thigh highs and shoes on. Does this pink suit work instead? I paired it with this backpack that lights up.” And in so many ways, this is Pride. This is the protest. This is me and all of us saying you can have that opinion of me… that’s fine, you can be that person. But I am still going to be just as much me as I was yesterday, if not moreso.
If I’m not being clear, it was the best fucking Pride of my whole life. I’d like to thank everyone for the hugs, and especially the incredibly thoughtful and eye-opening conversations, cuddles, intimate sessions. The honesty of all of it, and the joy. Thank you for marching in the parade, for inviting me to a gay wrestle show (!), for opening your doors, the ongoing and often daily catching up at my favorite Castro restaurant; For opening your hearts, and minds. For being so unequivocally you, and for having me as me. I love you.
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