I am not a homophobe

I have no love for those little terms that are just ways of shutting down debate.  Homophobe.  Islamaphobe.  They mean nothing.  Well, not nothing.  They have meaning.  Whether they apply in most cases or not is the question.  Phobe is simply phobia.  Phobia is defined as  an exaggerated, usually inexplicable and illogical fear of a particular object, class of objects, or situation.   So I’m claustrophobic.  I mean it.  I don’t like heights and prefer to give a wide berth to spiders.  But those aren’t phobias.  I don’t like getting bitten by spiders, and they’re just creepy.  I think it was Lewis who said they’re like European locomotives, with all the workings on the outside.  I don’t like heights mostly because I don’t like falling.  And it’s usually ladders, shaky ledges, things like that.  I can stand next to the Grand Canyon and not bat an eye, because I assume it isn’t going anywhere and as long as I’m not an idiot, I won’t fall.

But claustrophobic?  That I am.  Even crowded in by people makes me short of breath.  I don’t care for Holy Day services because of the numbers, and will try to attend the least attended services to avoid the crowds.  If Ohio State Stadium was enclosed, I’d never buy another ticket.  Don’t get me started on being in small, closed places.  Several years ago, before my sons were born, my wife’s family took us to Disney World.  Our niece and nephew were with us, and we rode several rides on their behalf.  We rode the 20,000 Leagues ride.  It really was splendid, and I knew it was just a ride.  But just being in that cramped space almost pushed me past the edge of reason.  My niece kept spouting off about how cool it was being shut in a small space under water.  I glared at her and felt like saying if you keep it up, there’s going to be a major issue.  When the ride stopped and the door opened, it was ankles, knees and elbows from me.  I know it’s irrational.  I know there is no sane reason to be that way.  But I can’t help it.  No amount of reasoned thinking will change my mind.  Hence phobia.

Now, there could be homophobes.  That is, people who suffer from homophobia.  There could be people who, for no explainable reason, go bat nuts when a person with same sex attraction is around.  There could be people who, upon seeing two people of the same sex holding hands, break out in a sweat, begin to shake, and almost come to the point of a nervous breakdown.  I’ve never seen that happen, but with 7 billion people, I imagine it’s possible.  There might even be people who react violently, as I’m sure some people with extreme phobias are capable of doing.

According to liberal parlance, however,  the word homophobe, like Islamaphobe, basically means not conforming to liberal parlance.  Not accepting liberal values.  These words aren’t meant to encourage debate or open dialogue.  They’re words used by people as open to discourse as a Plymouth Puritan or Spanish Inquisitor.  There’s one way or you’re evil.  Or in this case, a homophobe.

That is not the case.  At least with me.  My rejection of non-heterosexual normality is the result of several things, none of which necessarily fit the phobia definition.  My faith is one reason.  Common sense another.  I’m the father of four boys.  Perhaps if I had four girls, and knowing the relatively low rate of HIV among lesbians and nuns, I could be faulted for being concerned.  But since sexually active homosexuals males have a disproportionately high rate of HIV infections, death by AIDS, as well as other infectious ailments brought about by their sexual practices, I can say I feel pretty sensible not wanting my boys to indulge in homosexual sexuality.  Just as I don’t consider myself unreasonable for not wanting them to smoke or sit around and eat ten Big Macs a day without exercise.  It’s not hate.  It’s not phobia.  Heck, I might go so far as to suggest it’s love.

Erin Burnett was interviewing a Catholic Bishop some months back.  During the interview, the bishop said that you’re not a homophobe just because you don’t support gay marriage.  Burnett, perhaps without thinking, shook her head and said under her breath, “I don’t know about that.”  Almost as if she couldn’t help herself, whatever notion of impartiality she was supposed to project.

The single greatest tool of modern progressives is to insist on tolerance of anything and everything except hatred and bigotry.  And how is hatred and bigotry defined?  Easy.  By not being progressive.  Which is a shame.  There is a debate to have, and it would be nice if progressives could muster the courage to engage, rather than concoct arbitrary terms out of thin air meant, not to advance debate, but in the words of the immortal Archie Bunker, to stifle it.