No science has ever so greatly improved relations among humankind. No activity has ever so fully defined what it means to be human.
Recently, after slightly overindulging during a celebration with my newfound community of Panamo-Russo-Semitic-American students, I said goodbye and staggered out the door to begin my solitary walk home.
When I regained consciousness the next morning, I was surprised to find myself in a meat locker, clutching the freshly-shed skin of a reticulate python in my fist and wearing nothing except an adult incontinency undergarment atop my head. I gazed down on my partners – complete strangers who were sleeping peacefully against my chest – and was suddenly flooded with the memory of innocent ecstasies that followed after I was sidetracked during last evening’s walk home.
Because this is an unenlightened and ultra-conservative newspaper, I’ll keep the details to myself. Suffice it to say, the experience was both wholly consensual and tremendously freeing. While the activities did violate some of the more stodgy dictates of my Zoroastrian upbringing, what happened was the sexual manifestation of pure and true beauty – feeling religious guilt would demean the profound experience entirely. Besides, the Avesta was written thousands of years ago and it was never really meant to be taken literally anyway.
The discovery of my repressed sexuality completely revolutionized the way I thought of myself as well as the way I think others think of me. Screw ethnicity – sexual orientation’s the real factor in questions of identity. The way I am sexually speaks volumes more about who I am as a person than some flimsy Panamo-Russo-Semitic-American heritage.
As with my ethnicity, I wasn’t given the option of choosing my sexuality. My particular sexual proclivities are the result of genetics, the mere sequencing of my nucleotides. It’s not some choice I consciously made. Judging me by genetic factors that are completely out of my control is utterly repugnant, and yet, the vast majority of this campus would likely shun me were I to reveal the particular nature of my sexuality.
That’s why people who share my particular alternative lifestyle need to join with me. It’s time we stopped being ashamed of something we know to be beautiful. It’s time we tell the world that our preference is no one’s business but our own. It’s time to celebrate our sexuality proudly and publicly, with T-shirts and colorful parades.
The path to ultimate social acceptance lies through education. We need our state and federal government to pass legislation that would ensure our perspective to be taught fairly in public schools. Nothing is more painful than the harsh words of a child who has been taught to hate that which isn’t reflected in the mainstream.
We also need to take our battle to Hollywood and network television to ensure that we are equally represented in American pop culture. Unless you’re one of us, you couldn’t possibly imagine how hurtful it is never to see an honest portrayal of someone who undergoes the trials and tribulations that come with having our alternative lifestyle. The angry epithets shouted at us by the ignorant are indeed painful, but they do not compare to the emotional havoc wrought by close-minded and condescending network executives.
CSU, it’s time to open your eyes. Stop being so apathetic and take some time to learn more about a lifestyle that you might be unfamiliar with. My sexual preferences may not be very important to you, but they mean a whole hell of a lot to me. So pretend to listen attentively while I go on and on – or else I’ll never shut up.
Jon Watkins is a senior majoring in English.