No matter where you stand on this, this post is going to be helpful and not helpful. It’s going to walk the line between the issues, but that’s where I stand. Hopefully, you’ll be able to see that.
I was born into a generation where being proud of your homosexuality is something worth fighting for. I grew up watching LGBT rights slowly progress, winning fight after fight in state after state, and I was told that who you are is not something you can change.
These men were born in a generation where being homosexual was illegal. Not just looked down on, not just regarded as scandalous, but illegal. They grew up hearing stories of people being thrown in jail, being shunned from communities, being run out of town, for being so depraved, so twisted, so impossibly wrong.
I grew up in a generation that taught me the importance of individuality. My society and my culture taught me that I was a unique child of God, that I had something special to give the world, and it was important to find out what that is.
These men grew up in a generation that banded together to fight against greater evil. They were taught that serving your country was the same as serving your God, and that sometimes things needed to be changed or altered so the greater good could move forward.
I came of age at a time where I could come out to my Mormon parents and receive only love and support for my statements. I was told that Jesus loved me no matter what, and I strove until I felt that love for myself. I was taught that finding a life partner was so very important, and that possibly more important than that, I needed to be true to that life partner when they came along.
These men came of age at a time where homosexuality was associated strongly with the free love movement. To these conservative men, homosexuality was irresponsibly. It was infidelity. It was not caring what anyone else thought. It was illness. It was death.
When I say “homosexuality” and when these men say “homosexuality”, we are not saying the same thing. We are reading from dictionaries with different definitions and neither of us can fully see where the other stand.
I’m not saying this excuses them. I’m not going to say their words didn’t matter. That they didn’t hurt. But we have to understand that we are telling these stories from different lives. We use the same words, but we don’t tell the same stories. I wish we did.