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When I was a kid, it seemed that a favorite insult used on playgrounds, in the neighborhood, and wherever kids gathered, was calling someone a "faggot."
I could tell, from an early age, that being a "faggot" must be a really horrible thing, but I didn't know what it was.
I could tell, from an early age, that being a "faggot" must be a really horrible thing, but I didn't know what it was.
Later, when understanding illuminated meaning, I knew that kids, well, now teens, who were contemptuously deriding the guy that couldn't shoot straight (at basketball), or missed a catch in baseball, etc., were talking about ... me.
How could I ever tell family and friends that the word they invested with such disgust, such contempt, such disregard, was a word that described me, and people like me.
