Gay Is Black, Mexican Is Gay

Bil Browning over at Bilerico has written a post called "Three Things That Made Me Cry Today." Number One on his list is this:

Mexican Is The New Gay

. . . I was flirting with a guy online; he's latino. I asked him where he was from and he said, "I'm from Mexico. I hope that's okay." Okay? Okay!?

Apparently, if gay is the new black, Mexican is the new gay. Does this damned merry-go-round ever stop? Why would it not be okay what country he was from? France, Japan, Mexico or East Timor? I just can't imagine what it must be like to follow it up with, "I hope that's okay."

Maybe it's just seeing the whole "Blame The Blacks" meme whip through the queer community recently, but I'm feeling really sick about some of the overt racism that's floated through my world lately.

Mexican has been the new black for quite some time now. I honestly cannot tell you how many times I have heard nasty comments about Mexicans, directed at me, in the past year. Here are a few that come to mind:

"You better watch out, or you're going to look Mexican!"
"You know how those Mexicans breed."
"I went to California, and everywhere you looked it was fucking Mexicans, Mexicans, Mexicans!"
"You're Mexican? No, no, you mean you're Spanish."

And every time I hear one of these little gems, the first thing I think is, "What would my mother think of me if I didn't say something right now?" One of my friends said I was an angry half-Mexican. And you know what? He's right. It pisses me off that people who know better feel safe spouting bigotry to me, in front of me. Replace "Mexican" in the comments above with any other minority of your choice to see how violent it feels. "You better watch out or you're going to look black!" Or "You know how those Jews breed." Or "You're black? No, no, you mean you're white." I went to California and everywhere I looked it was faggots, faggots, faggots!" Yeah. It makes me feel queasy, too.

I went to breakfast on Sunday with a friend. While we were eating, a little Mexican boy and a little Mexican girl around 9 and 10, probably the children of the adults working there, kept refilling our coffee cups and water glasses. They were so cute, and they reminded me of two of my nephews and nieces. Each time they came back to our table, I kept wondering if they both dreamed of being President. You know what? I hope they do, but I doubt it. They hear from every conceivable arena that Mexicans are less than everyone else, that Mexicans are part of the American servant class.

I've written about this before, but with so much discussion surrounding gays and racism, I feel obligated to say something about this. How many times did I hear people on Fire Island make gagging sounds when the idea of sleeping with an Asian man came up in conversation? Or how about that Pines council member who told me, on a weekend that Kevin Aviance was performing, that it was "getting to be too . . . urban" and something had to be done?And then all this anti-Mormon talk. By gay people! It is a merry-go-round, and we do keep going round and round, but I can't help but think it's because we love the ride.