When I was growing up, I often heard the word “nigger.”  Not from my mom, who would never, ever utter such a word to describe a fellow human being, but from the other side of my family. That family was raised poor.  Poorer than dirt, without inside plumbing in the middle of the city in the 1940s and 1950s. They lived in an area that was considered the “Black” side of town. I’ve thought about it over the years and I expect that perhaps the reason for such vitriolic language was that somehow, that would elevate those poor, ignorant white people ahead of someone…anyone…at least in their own minds.

As much as I love that side of the family for other reasons, I find that not much has changed, even after all of these years post-Civil Rights Movement.  They shrug their shoulders and tell me that’s just the way it is. I shake my head, I call them on it, and I think less of them each time I hear it. I have to spend time explaining to my nuclear family of color why there is such ignorance in the world.  And not only in the world, but in their very midst.  How that with people like that, you have to look a lot deeper to find value in the relationship or find none and move on.  I’m beyond the belief I can change the hearts of Man.  Sometimes, we can change only a little piece of that heart.  Small successes keep me going.

Where did they learn this world-view?  Their parents.  And their parents before them.  And so on.  It’s an endless cycle of overt, illogical, nonsensical, unreasoned hate.  Without compassion.  Without empathy.

Over the past several months, I’ve participated in rallies, marches, and Pride events.  At each place, there was a visible hate contingent.  This year’s group of haters at Pride was a much smaller group.  That does not mean I think there are less of them, I just think they are regrouping after their win over Prop 8.

In each of these scenarios, I see a face like the one in the picture.  A child.  Stony-faced and resolute, without any real knowledge of what it is exactly he hates or why.  He can only parrot what he’s been spoon-fed by his hating parents, fellow church members, or other reactionary influences.  He’ll grow up, having that message reiterated over and over again and believe it to his core.  It will slowly seep into his daily speech and behavior.  He will go into the workplace and be forced to conform to a more politically-correct environment, but inside, he’ll be seething with a hatred that has no purpose.  He won’t question why, it’s just the way it is.  It’s what he was taught.

He’ll go to a few verses in his Bible and point it out with all the righteousness he can muster to anyone who will listen.  He’ll decry anyone calling him on the fact he picks and chooses which verses to obey and his interpretation of his Bible is as firm as quicksand.  He’ll disavow the fact that what he feels is hate and with conviction say he is only doing God’s work.  He’ll describe how by allowing gays the right he has, it will dilute the importance of his own rights.  He’ll hide in plain sight until the next Pride event or ballot initiative and organize his fellow haters.  Each of them staring stony-faced as we march past them, still hungry for our equality.

He will beget a child and the cycle will start again.

Dilution is the hallmark of genetics.  As time goes on, traits once etched in a chiseled chin or pasty white skin become altered through time and the introduction of new genetic material as each generation creates the next.  The dilution of hate occurs in much the same way.  The future we are creating is one of color and difference and diversity, whether the haters get on board or not.

We must, as parents, neighbors, brothers, sisters, and citizens, help create the chemical mix that dilutes the hate.  We do this by ensuring GLBT issues are covered in schools, by openly participating in our community, by joining the PTA, by being relentless in our communications with our elected representatives, including our not-necessarily-gay-friendly president, by continuing to confront homophobia masked as something else, by being a constant in-your-face presence – out and proud and vocal about not be willing to be “less than” anymore.