As a gay man you are likely, if it hasn’t happened already, going to be called a faggot. It’s probably going to happen many times in fact. Generally, I’m not too concerned with this…until yesterday.
Foxxy Business, Shew and I were planning to attend Summer Streets, not realizing it wrapped up at 1 p.m. we arrived as the events were coming to a close. A quick Google search and I discovered the Chelsea Brewing Company offered a free Saturday tour and discounted beers. What better way to spend a Saturday when plans fall apart – beer and education!
Once finished with the brewery, we began our walk to the train. As if they appeared out of thin air, a bunch of guys were chanting about something, if we hadn’t been in Chelsea I would of thought the Yankees had just won a game. The chants distracted me from conversation and without warning one of the group members called out, “You’re a faggot.” It could have been directed at any or all three of us.
Usually I would have something snarky to return, but I was dumbfounded. Everyone continued walking in opposite directions and neither of my friends remarked on the incident, but I couldn’t get it out of my mind. Frustrated, I spent the next hour lecturing myself, in my head of course, for not saying anything. I can fault my tongue for not being quick enough, and perhaps it was for the best. There were enough of them if it had turned into a fight we definitely would have lost.
Even so, I’m still annoyed at myself because whichever guy made the comment got away with it and his friends probably patted him on the back. Meaning it was a victory to him. The word faggot doesn’t bother me, I’ve had friend’s say it to me in jest so many times it has lost any meaning and in truth words are only words. But I can’t get over the fact that for one split second, I couldn’t focus enough to return verbal fire. Now I’m overly preparing myself with ready-to-go comments for the next time this happens. If nothing else, I know it will happen again at some point.