“Cocksucker,” yelled the bogan as I waited to cross the intersection.
“Really, is it that obvious? Damn good at it too, if you want to take me for a spin,” I was tempted to reply.
He was a cute bogan. But not that cute.
As the glitter settles after the weekend, this was a stark reminder that the quintessence of Mardi Gras doesn’t last long. It couldn’t be more apparent we need to keep ‘Saying Something’ until we’re afforded the equality to which every person is entitled.
Equality is a right, not a request.
Insults like the above are amusing. But there was a time it wasn’t so funny. Back at school, this was one of the stock-standard pejoratives: cocksucker. Along with fag, queer, and nancy boy. I quite like the sound of ‘nancy boy’ now. It makes me feel like a gay superhero.
My special power would be farting laser beams. And my mission would be to stem the odious tide of homophobic bullying still rife in this country. I’d pledge to stamp out mediocrity, encouraging diversity and acceptance for the fair citizens of our land girt by sea.
Many straight people are complacent and have no moral compass. Like Charlie Sheen. What a guy! Sheen personifies the straight tool with too much money. Scores of hetero guys actually think he’s cool.
As a marginalised community, however, we either continue living as second-class citizens, or we keep insisting on equality. Surely, we owe it to the pioneers of protest, like the ’78ers.
Mardi Gras is about so much more than hot bodies, drag queens, and dance parties.
Some wanted a ‘younger and fitter’ Mardi Gras this year. I hear there were some cheeky comments made about some of the older parade entrants, without whom we probably wouldn’t have many of the liberties we now take for granted.
Without whom we probably wouldn’t have Mardi Gras. We’re supposed to be celebrating diversity. That’s what the colours in the rainbow flag are for.
Instead of being a columnist for an awesome GLTBI paper, I shudder at the thought of the ghastly, grey life I may have been expected to lead. But thanks to our pioneering protesters, you get to be you. And from time to time, I even get to be Nancy Boy.
Therefore, show some bloody respect … or I’ll fart on you!