Homophobia ruined my
life. These words were spoken to me by another gay man who was in his late
sixties and had been a leader in the gay community. He was a retired professor
with what seemed like a good life and he was certainly well-liked and well-respected.
His words shook me.
Through my own therapy and other self-reflection I am
discovering how deeply I was injured, certainly psychologically, probably
spiritually, by having grown up in a time and place that was pervasively
homophobic.
I often think “what if”—what if I had made some kind of
connection with the gay community when I was younger and had been able to come
out as an adolescent or young adult. How much less haunted by what I will
simply call “internal demons” would I be now?
I had been trying to write a poem about the UpStairs Lounge fire in New Orleans in
1973. The lounge was a gay bar in New Orleans that was destroyed in an arson's
fire on June 24, 1973. It was the deadliest fire in the city's history and the
largest mass killing of LGBT people in the United States.
New Orleans holds a special place in my heart. I moved to New Orleans in 1975 for college,
still very closeted, even in some ways even to myself, as I would remain for a
while. I never heard of the fire then, and in fact, did not know about it at
all till 4 or 5 years ago. It has received little attention. Oppression is assisted
through the concealing of history.
I had down good description of the fire and its aftermath,
but I needed something more. Then at a
writing conference this past summer I started thinking again about those words
that my friend had said to me as well as the pain of my own youth. I started
hearing in my head What if, what if I had
heard, what if I knew, what if . . . ?
And the poem fell into place. Please go the link and give it a read. (And while you are there look around the issue
of The About Place Journal, you will
be impressed by its passion for justice.)
