Reconciling being Baha'i, having faith, and being gay.
A Real Man?
The first time I saw a flagrantly (obviously) gay man using tools to make something, I was shocked. Gays use tools? Who did he think he was, a man?
That's what I think of myself, too.
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Hi! Yes, I'm gay and a Baha'i. Yes, I talk to cats. And dogs, and squirrels (I call them "chitterbugs").
I wrote an article a few years ago on a Facebook group, posted it after it got serious attention to Susan Gammage's site, and have heard from a Ukrainian who didn't know gay Baha'is existed as well as heard many stories after posting the article (I give my e-mail at the end of the article -- if I haven't replied, hit me again, please!) and I am now starting a blog based on it. I am re-posting the article here.
To be clear: "Allah 'u' Abha [in the below article] differs from "Allah 'u' Akbar," which Muslims say; we are saying "God is Glorious" and they are saying "God is Great" -- Baha'is are differentiating ourselves deliberately from Islam as a separate, distinct Faith.* "Baha'u'llah," whom Baha'is follow, means "Glory of God," as in "I will return in the…
I have a colleague who is in his mid-twenties and gorgeous. I don't hit on the poor guy like I could because I know it's wrong because he's straight and has a girlfriend -- and I was 19 when he was born. He mentioned friends and how he turns into a little boy when they're around, and it made me think of how I've got friends scattered across the nation, but so far only one, maybe two friends in Washington and I've been here nearly two years now. It makes me sad to come home from work and be alone.
I don't want to go to gay bars; firstly, Baha'u'llah helped me destroy my drinking habit completely (9 months now). So, I don't particularly want to be around drinking/drunken people, and in any case gay bars are full-on meat markets and not particularly the best way to make friends, at least for me. I usually arrive alone and leave alone anyway. Back when I did go to bars. I'd get some Matchbox 20 "Push" action on the jukebox and sing my …
I don't celebrate my homosexuality, I hate it. I look at it as a tragic tweak, be it genetic or whatever, that separates me from a life I want. I look at it as a monumental "problem with women" that I just can't get past and my future -- I'm already damned near 45 -- looks like one round of unrequited love that shouldn't exist after another that I harbor internally and torment myself over until my life is over.
Surrogate mother? Where? And with what millions? I can't afford glasses or a new front tooth.
Straight folks shouldn't take for granted how lucky they are.