TRIGGER WARNING: THIS POST REFERENCES ATTEMPTED SUICIDE.
Why does a cisgender, straight, White guy like me care so much about equity and social justice?
Imagine you're an eighteen-year-old freshman in college and you've just tried to commit suicide by slashing your wrist.
It didn't work, but you did get kicked out school for repeatedly hitting on your roommate. Yes, your male roommate. Yes, you're male too.
You knew you weren't supposed to do that. You knew your roommate wasn't interested in that. You knew that something bad would happen.
And as you're in the hospital recovering, your mind goes back to the first time you tried to commit suicide when you were thirteen.
When you realized that you liked boys and not girls. When you knew you couldn't tell anyone. When you knew that you could be jailed or committed or killed for telling anyone, let alone acting on your feelings.
This was 1962. The college incident was 1966.
The marriage to the woman was 1971.
The kid was born in 1973—the same year homosexuality was depathologized.
The good news is that kid grew up, chose to learn about and embrace and tell your story.
Chose to learn about and embrace and tell his story too.
Decided unapologetically to fight for equity and social justice.
Until there's no more inequity and injustice.