The Nappy Diatribe

The "Stop Snitching Movement" is a diversionary tactic for closeted homosexuals

Posted 05/14/2007 at 8:22 PM  |  6 comment/s

Growing up in the '80s, years before I knew that Barbara Streisand was a gay icon and to stay out of drinking establishments with multi-colored flags posted in the front window - I knew back then that the adult HumanityCritic would always be accepting of other peoples' lifestyles. No, it wasn't because I had a penchant for wearing my mother's high heels while gazing at a poster of Jermaine Stewart on my bedroom wall. I never sang "It's Raining Men" in subdued tones while taking my nightly shower. I never had any inappropriate erections during one of those "turn your head and cough for me" sports physicals back in the day. I guess I always knew that I'd grow up to be a tolerant adult based on the virus of intolerance around me that my body openly rejected like an immune system. It's weird - I feel as if I've intellectually regressed since adolescence, because I clearly remember feeling that my father's constant "Stop crying! What, are you a queer?" sentiments and my football coach's "Stop hitting like a damned faggot!" commands were simply microcosms of male insecurity. Not only that, but I had a Nostradamus-like gift for pointing out who I thought were homosexuals - the severely closeted variety, giving themselves away by their horrible re-enactments of how they thought a real man should act.

My best friend's father suddenly comes to mind - a dude whose only mission in life was to inject a healthy hatred of homosexuals in the minds of me and his son. He'd go on and on about how much he wished a gay guy would approach him so he could bash his skull in. He'd threaten to kill any two men he saw walking together from the confines of his car while taking us to our little league baseball games - not to mention how many times he called us gay epithets whenever we dropped a pass, agonized over a bruised knee too long, or took a sip of water in a matter he found feminine. During the tenure of my adolescence, it was damn near impossible to have a single conversation with him that didn't ridicule homosexuals in some form or fashion - innocent talks about football, school, even how my parents were doing, somehow took the drastic turn into some uncharted "fruits taking it up the caboose" territory. Well, I found out why my best friend's father had such an intense hatred for gays all of those years - at his 60th birthday party he came out of the closet, apologizing to everyone for his behavior over the past two decades. When he personally apologized to me, I informed him that I knew he was gay the whole time. And when he asked me how I knew, I just said, "Any man spewing that much hatred for homosexuals probably craves cock himself. Plus, dude - you had an impeccable fashion sense!"

I can't forget about my college pal Derek, a dude who talked about the female genitalia so much that I sometimes felt as if I was getting lectured by a gynecologist. Sure, men can blab about their sexual exploits like a couple of school girls, but there was something very suspicious about Derek - every single conversation that exited his mandible had something to do with the quality, durability, texture, taste, smell, and the storage ability of the common vagina. It wasn't until recently that I talked to Derek since our college days - who is now currently as gay as a treefull of parakeets by the way. He told me that he felt as if I would have abandoned our friendship if he was honest about his sexuality back then, so he simply changed the gender of his exploits while retelling his dalliances - a factoid that honestly made me throw up in my mouth just a bit.

I get the sneaking suspicion that the "Stop Snitching Movement" is based on a slew of insecure males not willing to accept the fact that they secretly want their prostates pounded into submission. I mean, my friend's father disguising his homosexuality with homophobia was pretty pointless - he could have come out 20 years ago and still would have been a great father and mentor. It would have been nice to have another male figure in my life that knows "The Sound of Music" by heart, as well. My friend Derek could have saved years of heartache and trusted me as a friend by being honest about his sexuality - plus, if he would have come out, I would have stopped putting my finger under his nose and saying "Dude, guess who this is??!!" We can all agree that the whole "Stop Snitching Movement" is pretty pointless as well. Sure, law enforcement and black folks have had a turbulent relationship, to say the least. But until your silly ass has a rich background in forensics, good old fashioned detective work, and an ability to know where the shooter was standing based on the trajectory of the bullet wound - inform the police if a loved one finds themselves on the business end of a murder, you fucking jackass.

Whenever I hear some misguided young man say, "I don't talk to the police no matter what," I feel like the dude in "The Dead Zone" who can see peoples' futures simply by touching them. Visions of them marching in gay pride parades in 10 years flood my cerebellum. Whenever a person can bring the killer of a loved one to justice but decides against cooperating with the police based on some flimsy street code - thoughts of them frequenting drinking establishments called "The Cockpit" and buying anal lubricants in the future overtake my subconscious. If you want to find sexual cries for help disguised in incoherent machismo, look no further than Hip Hop. Cam'ron, a man who once said that he wouldn't inform the authorities if a serial killer lived next door to him - once had an odd penchant for wearing pink, and talks a mass amount of shit as if he's desperately trying to compensate for something. Then there's Busta, an individual who upholds a code of ethics that allows the murder of his friend to go unsolved - who once angrily berated a gay fan in Miami. Fellas, come out the closet already - the sooner you do, the sooner some of these crimes get solved.

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