Queer-Loving Asshole

(This is from 2011 or so)

At this exact moment, I’m certain a man in my hometown is calling me that to his coworkers. I’m sure his story is vastly different from my own. I’m sure in his version of the event, I’m wearing a rainbow shirt, prancing about to disco and the scariest part, I’m probably wearing short shorts.

I apologize for the mental image of me in short shorts I just conjured in your head.

Here’s my version of the story.

I grew up in a small town. I bet you have that John Mellencamp song stuck in your head now. Ha!

Anyway, I grew up in Tehachapi. When I was a kid, the town had a population of 4,000, there were no chain restaurants, the town’s radio station, KT103, played country music exclusively, and my main activity was wandering through fields trying not to get bitten by snakes.

The town has grown since then, but it’s still small both in stature and in attitude. Most of that attitude is quaint, some of it, well not so much.

Every year Tehachapi gathers itself around the Mountain Festival. There’s a parade, a rodeo, and the city park is transformed into a meeting place for locals still living in the area and for those visiting. You can devour artery-clogging food and purchase knick-knacks from the local artisans. But all of that is secondary to the non-stop reunion in the park. People who haven’t seen each other in years hug and talk about the good ol’ days. It’s like the arrival area of an airport exploded over a city park.

I’ve avoided the Mountain Festival since 1992. not because I hate the festival or the people that partake in annual event. I’m just not a very social person, and frankly, once you’ve been to one festival, you’ve been to them all.

This year was different though. My mom’s birthday fell on Mountain Festival weekend and I decided it would be a nice surprise to see her. In addition, there were some good friends I hand’t seen in years in Tehachapi. So I packed my bags and heads down south.

Once I arrived, I was excited to go to the parade with my niece and nephew. Every kids loves a good parade, and every adult should see a parade with kids. It should have been perfect. For a short period of time, it was.

The local equestrian groups rode by. The car clubs cruised by with their shiny old vehicles. The Shriners squeezed themselves into their fez hats and tiny cars and sped down the street. The kids loved it, and I felt at home remembering how much I loved this parade as a child. Off in the distance I saw flurry of rainbow flags. I felt proud that my little hometown had decided that tolerance was a family value and that the Bakersfield LGBTQ was partaking in the parade.

As expected, the older residents sat quietly as the group walked by. Some of the high school kids cheered and clapped as the group approached, and then something I didn’t expect happened. A man about 10 feet from me began booing the group. I hadn’t encountered intolerance like that in a long time and immediately I remembered one of the reasons I left Tehachapi. Then it got worse, odd, but worse. He yelled at the group,

“Go back to the valley, we don’t want you here.”

Wait, go back to the valley? Had the San Joaquin valley become a breeding ground for homos? Were gays running Bakersfield now? It smacked of racists telling black people to go back to Africa. Had this man never been to the flower shop in Tehachapi? Did he not see the growth of lesbian couples wandering around downtown Tehachapi? Sure these parade gays could return to the valley at the end of the day, but there were gays running around Tehachapi and there’s a good chance they had infiltrated the local theatre group.

When his heckling tactic failed to get any support from the townspeople around him, he decided to employ another tactic.

“Everyone, just don’t clap or say anything, that’ll show them that they’re not wanted here.”

Apparently, he had taken the Silence is Golden phrase from the theatre to heart and decided it was not only a great piece of advice while watching summer blockbusters, but was also perfect for getting “those people” out of his town.

At that point I did what any small town boy would do. I clapped loudly, yelled “YEAH!” and gave the group all the support I could muster all the while staring straight at Mr. Jerkface. I never got his name, but I’m sure that was it.

This man was not only being a total asshole to this group because of some misplaced hate, he was also showing all the kids around him that being even slightly different was reason enough for others to hate you. In addition to that, he had become an official spokesperson for my hometown. He had become the stereotypical small-town bigot. It sickened me.

Well Mr. Jerkface wasn’t going to take my lack of solidarity without a comment. He turned to me and said, “Why don’t you go home too?”

I had never seen this man before in my life. I recognized all the old timers at the parade immediately. While I don’t know everyone in town, I do recognize the families that have been there for generations. It’s impossible for me to drive through town without being recognized. It’s a small town after all.

I told him, “I am home.”

My brother then told Mr. Jerkface, “You’re being stupid, why don’t you just shut up.”

His reply was typical and you’ll soon realize, infuriating. “Why don’t you make me, I’m an American, I can say what I want.” He then trailed off about something or other. I told me brother to just ignore him when my sister’s boyfriend told the guy that there are kids here and stop it. He replied that he would stop for the kids.

Before we get to the infuriating part, let me paint a picture for you. I’m 6’3” 190lbs. My brother is 6’ 2” 210lbs. My sister’s boyfriend, he’s about 6’ 4” 200lbs. We’re all big guys. When someone that’s 5’ 9” 350lbs and can barely standup from a sitting position without help from his wife, the challenge to “make him shut up” becomes comical. I’m not here to call Mr. Jerkface fat, maybe he was a world class wrestler in his day. But to challenge someone that is clearly faster, stronger and younger than you to a fight seems ludicrous. Of course, it’s also the perfect comeback when you’re in junior high, which seemed to be the last time Mr. Jerkface used his brain.

The parade continued, we clapped and waved to all the floats that rolled by. My mom was on a float and my brother ran out to surprise her. She had no idea we were going to be in town for her birthday. It was great. Mr. Jerkface wouldn’t look over in our direction. Presumably because he would catch “queer-loving” by even looking at us. It’s catchy, like an Erasure song.

And then the infuriating part. Remember Mr Jerkface’s quip about being an American blah blah blah? When the VFW float went by, I stood and clapped. My dad is a veteran. His dad was a veteran. My cousin served in the marines. Many of my friends served this country. Some of them have died in service to this country. While everyone was showing their respect, this waste of human life, didn’t even bother to clap. i could understand that standing would be difficult for him, but at least clap or something.

Fine.

Later, a military truck drove by for the Americans serving our country right now. Once again, everyone showed their support except for fat bastard. Do not lecture me on me and my family on being an American when your un-American intolerance spills over into my families space and you won’t even show respect to people who have served and are serving our country so you can make stupid comments.

I couldn’t even look at him at this point.

Later on I found out that the parade announcers failed to even mention the Bakersfield LGBTQ. They ignored them like many of the townsfolk. A friend of mine that still lives in Tehachapi made a big stink about it. Whether you support them or not, everyone should get equal acknowledgment was her argument. While Mr. Jerkface and the parade organizers made me bit embarrassed for my hometown, my friends that live there helped me to realize that while old prejudices die hard, there are people in Tehachapi still trying to make it a better place. One parade at a time.