In the ‘War Against Intolerance’ there are many enemies. Some are more obvious, like dear ol’ G.W. Bush; and some are so discreet in their ways that they all but disappear.
But if there’s one thing that shouldn’t be tolerated, it’s intolerant people.
A few days ago I was sitting in the Aula cafe with a friend, sipping weak coffee and regaling him with extravagant tales of woe and misery at the hands of these already-mentioned Intolerant People. Normally the conversation goes something like this: “I mean how can they be so small-minded? How can anyone believe in a god who would condemn people for loving someone of the same gender? How can more love ever be a bad thing?” At this point, whoever is suffering from my often-repeated tirades (against homophobics, xenophobics, bigots and racists) usually nods miserably and agrees to the point of exhaustion. I’m sure they’re thinking, ‘If I keep nodding maybe she’ll shut up.” But we both maintain a certain respect for the obvious and tend to part ways happily.
But this time, something went wrong. My friend Carl glanced up at me during my rant, and then quickly back at the fashion magazine spread across his knees. “I don’t think that’s the point. I think people can work on being gay. It’s like a bad habit, you know? It’s like having an anger-management problem or something.” My jaw dropped to the floor: I was about to have an anger-management problem right there!
“But—but—but how can you—? I mean—but you’re—?” I spluttered. While I scrambled to shove my broken heart back together, I motioned wildly around the cafe, as if this gesture might somehow recall order to the semi-closed universe of TU Delft.
He looked at me calmly. “Yeah, I’m gay, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s right. If I find a woman who understands, someday I still might get married and have a family. My parents would never have to know.”
If you’re still reading this, you’ve probably picked sides by now. Either you’ve joined the team of the Love-Will-Save-Us-All hippie child (and you can have a rainbow flag to wave if you want one), or else you’re nodding your head in appreciation of my friend’s desire to “work on” his homosexuality. Either way, you’ve taken sides, and the war is on.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they are here. Surrounding us, waiting patiently for the moment to strike — that glorious day when all the breeders will be taken down in one disco-storm of gold-lame and purple velvet. That’s right: the gays are here, just waiting for that moment to rip off their ties and bare their beautiful buns. Oh, breeders beware! (And if you fail to see the irony in this short rant, then it’s quite clear which side you’ve chosen… schatje.
One would think, in a country that gives its legal blessing to gay marriages, champions a woman’s right to keep laws off her body, and averts its eyes to the use of soft drugs, that being gay wouldn’t be a defining factor in such a liberal society. Who cares who you’re sleeping with?
Well for one thing, your housemates might. Carl won’t let his boyfriend spend the night because he’s afraid of what his housemates might say. He’s never tried it, so he doesn’t know, and the other side of the coin is this: they might not care. In fact, most student’s housemates probably don’t give a crap who you’re mattress-dancing with as long as they don’t have to listen to it. So first check the thickness of your bedroom walls, and then why not bring home that sexy man with the twinkling eye and the skin-tight shirt? Give it a whirl — you might find your housemates are more liberated than you thought. After all, who knows what rare breed of party animal is hiding beneath all those tucked-in shirts and wool sweaters. And what kind of a double-standard is it anyway, if Hans is allowed to bring home Lieke for a drunken night of hetero-debauchery, but Arnoud can’t show up for breakfast cuddling a hung-over Stan?
Carl would tell you to take things slow, but he’s batting for the other side. Take it from me, most straight people would love the chance to get a little inside info from the secret world of man-on-man / woman-on-woman lovey-dovey. And while you’re at it, let’s all make sure this battle is fought with laser-guns of open-mindedness. After all, gay and straight people alike are probably equally scared of a world draped in purple velvet, and there’s no need to reduce everything to cliches, right? A few tried-and-true throwbacks will suffice: as Carl would say, (if he thought anyone would listen), ‘make love, not war’.
Dorthy Parker, MSc Architecture, is from the United States. Her next column will be published in Delta 15. She can be emailed at: onbezorgd@gmail.com.
In the ‘War Against Intolerance’ there are many enemies. Some are more obvious, like dear ol’ G.W. Bush; and some are so discreet in their ways that they all but disappear. But if there’s one thing that shouldn’t be tolerated, it’s intolerant people.
A few days ago I was sitting in the Aula cafe with a friend, sipping weak coffee and regaling him with extravagant tales of woe and misery at the hands of these already-mentioned Intolerant People. Normally the conversation goes something like this: “I mean how can they be so small-minded? How can anyone believe in a god who would condemn people for loving someone of the same gender? How can more love ever be a bad thing?” At this point, whoever is suffering from my often-repeated tirades (against homophobics, xenophobics, bigots and racists) usually nods miserably and agrees to the point of exhaustion. I’m sure they’re thinking, ‘If I keep nodding maybe she’ll shut up.” But we both maintain a certain respect for the obvious and tend to part ways happily.
But this time, something went wrong. My friend Carl glanced up at me during my rant, and then quickly back at the fashion magazine spread across his knees. “I don’t think that’s the point. I think people can work on being gay. It’s like a bad habit, you know? It’s like having an anger-management problem or something.” My jaw dropped to the floor: I was about to have an anger-management problem right there!
“But—but—but how can you—? I mean—but you’re—?” I spluttered. While I scrambled to shove my broken heart back together, I motioned wildly around the cafe, as if this gesture might somehow recall order to the semi-closed universe of TU Delft.
He looked at me calmly. “Yeah, I’m gay, but that doesn’t mean I think it’s right. If I find a woman who understands, someday I still might get married and have a family. My parents would never have to know.”
If you’re still reading this, you’ve probably picked sides by now. Either you’ve joined the team of the Love-Will-Save-Us-All hippie child (and you can have a rainbow flag to wave if you want one), or else you’re nodding your head in appreciation of my friend’s desire to “work on” his homosexuality. Either way, you’ve taken sides, and the war is on.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, they are here. Surrounding us, waiting patiently for the moment to strike — that glorious day when all the breeders will be taken down in one disco-storm of gold-lame and purple velvet. That’s right: the gays are here, just waiting for that moment to rip off their ties and bare their beautiful buns. Oh, breeders beware! (And if you fail to see the irony in this short rant, then it’s quite clear which side you’ve chosen… schatje.
One would think, in a country that gives its legal blessing to gay marriages, champions a woman’s right to keep laws off her body, and averts its eyes to the use of soft drugs, that being gay wouldn’t be a defining factor in such a liberal society. Who cares who you’re sleeping with?
Well for one thing, your housemates might. Carl won’t let his boyfriend spend the night because he’s afraid of what his housemates might say. He’s never tried it, so he doesn’t know, and the other side of the coin is this: they might not care. In fact, most student’s housemates probably don’t give a crap who you’re mattress-dancing with as long as they don’t have to listen to it. So first check the thickness of your bedroom walls, and then why not bring home that sexy man with the twinkling eye and the skin-tight shirt? Give it a whirl — you might find your housemates are more liberated than you thought. After all, who knows what rare breed of party animal is hiding beneath all those tucked-in shirts and wool sweaters. And what kind of a double-standard is it anyway, if Hans is allowed to bring home Lieke for a drunken night of hetero-debauchery, but Arnoud can’t show up for breakfast cuddling a hung-over Stan?
Carl would tell you to take things slow, but he’s batting for the other side. Take it from me, most straight people would love the chance to get a little inside info from the secret world of man-on-man / woman-on-woman lovey-dovey. And while you’re at it, let’s all make sure this battle is fought with laser-guns of open-mindedness. After all, gay and straight people alike are probably equally scared of a world draped in purple velvet, and there’s no need to reduce everything to cliches, right? A few tried-and-true throwbacks will suffice: as Carl would say, (if he thought anyone would listen), ‘make love, not war’.
Dorthy Parker, MSc Architecture, is from the United States. Her next column will be published in Delta 15. She can be emailed at: onbezorgd@gmail.com.
Comments are closed.