this post was submitted on 16 Oct 2023
524 points (97.0% liked)
> Greentext
7387 readers
6 users here now
founded 2 years ago
MODERATORS
you are viewing a single comment's thread
view the rest of the comments
view the rest of the comments
Story about my southern grandparents, but grandad in particular.
So my grandparents born in the 19 teens in rural Alabama. They said the n-word with a hard r until the day they died. But grandma had a friend named Loraine. Loraine’s husband worked at the same steel mill as grandpa. They also had a kid same age and school as my uncle named Wayne.
Wayne always came to holidays at our house. He was flamboyant to say the least, but a super nice guy. When Wayne wasn’t around I’d hear grandma talk about him occasionally. She’d say things like “being gay isn’t a choice, because you could tell Wayne was different when he was too little to know what gay was”.
Fast forward and grandpa dies. After the service the family is standing around with grandma. Wayne walks up and tells grandma. “I wish grandpa had been my dad. My dad hated me for being gay, but grandpa always treated me like all the other kids”.
Wayne sent my grandma flowers every excuse he got till the day she died.
I’ve always felt like if those 2 old school bigots could figure out that gay isn’t a choice. Why can’t the rest of the world?
Well fortunately for your grandparents it wasn't yet time for ones bigotry and ignorance to be worn like a badge of honor as is tradition today so they weren't vilified for trying to think of Wayne as a human.