HIGH GEAR/OCTOBER 1977
THE COLOR GAME
un-
By Gene Taylor The other night, I was jolted into thought again by the actions of a particular gay bar practicing the old racial prejudice routine.' I know that blacks stil! have a tough time because of their skin color but 'how,' I thought to myself, "can faggots dare practice discrimination when homosexuality is still so acceptable to the great percentage of the straight sex." What a strange twist of the double standard! However, just as a flower is easy to see, this type of discrimination is so blatant, one must deal with it openly, either by accepting it or rejecting it. Also, one can safely assume that this type of discrimination is not nearly as hard to deal with as discrimination with roots entrenched in the soil of sinister subtlety. (Please try to excuse the dripping metaphor). The sad thing is, the blossoms (or ragweed) which I am verbally slicing at have only been carefully clipped away at the surface within my own heart, leaving the roots to spread at will and unseen by me, until a few weeks ago, that is. I recently tossed the first real heart-throb ! have had in 2 and 1/2 years into the compost heap, just because he was black!
I was standing in the bar, bored, as usual, when a foreign gaze gripped mine and wouldn't
let go. I was shocked, momentarily, to find that the gaze of a black man had commandeered my attention, but the shock was dampened by the booze and I threw caution to the winds when he later came over and conversed with me. "That's funny," I thought, "his appearance gave me the impression that he was a real doof, but when I hear his soft voice I really feel a rush of excitement flow throughout me." We danced a bit, then we talked and I couldn't believe the whole situation, because I never had to deal with this kind of reality before.
Fate decreed that we would not be able to go home together, so we exchanged addresses and phone numbers. I drove home very euphoric, mixed with a dose of anxiety and I fell asleep (passed out) thinking of what had transpired. I felt that, when I awoke the next morning, I would have a different attitude and that the whole thing was a phase which would pass with the beer. However, 'twas not the case. I couldn't shake the tingling feelings of the Saturday night before. I had a warm inner glow of re-kindled embers that had been extinguished ages ago.
With all of this going for me, a cloud entered the picture and rained on the embers. What would my friends think, would I lose my job if my boss of many taps in the grape-vine found out? Finally, for the 'coup de
grace, what can I tell my family? Mom had a hard enough time tolerating my being gay and now this. I decided to see him again anyway, so we had lunch on Sunday with some of my friends, who turned out to really be my because friends they understood completely. But nagging thoughts of his color still cast doubts in me, which he sensed and asked me about. I told him about the trouble I was having in dealing with something that I had never
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considered before. I told him because I wanted his help in coping with this problem attitude of mine, but because of his extreme sensitivity and my bluntness, he was deeply hurt and I have not seen him since. I MUFFED IT ROYAL. Here he was, the man of my dreams, an extremely intelligent individual, a talented piano player (I always wanted to play the piano and i envy anyone who can), and a Greek God to boot and I couldn't even accept him until it
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was too late! I have not had feelings so intense for over 2 years and I let him slip away into the darkness. (excluse the pun)
I only hope that there won't be 2 and 1/2 more years before I can experience feelings such as this, but I will say that I won't let skin color stop me again.
This outpouring of emotion has been brought to you by CLOWN INC. and is meant for all bigots of all skin color.
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