An Open Letter to a Dear (CIS Straight) Friend – Final Draft

An Open Letter to a Dear (CIS Straight) Friend,

Walker, It’s now been a couple of months since we’ve seen each other. This past summer was one of the best that we’ve ever had. You and I got so close over those endless nights when we had nothing better to do than get to know one another better. I think of these nights often.

We have known each other for quite some time. From 7^th grade, I knew that you were just this person that would exist in my life for a substantial amount of time. And I was right. After we all left for college, you were one of the few reasons that I even thought about Maryville at all. We always kept in touch, you cared about me, and I you.

And I know you always will.

But that doesn’t make you perfect. Nobody is, and that’s not what this letter is aiming to encourage. Instead, I just wish to draw your attention to an actuality that may not have crossed your mind. For the sake of clarity, I will cite that one dinner at the beach.

These beach trips were always one for the books. We just all loved being around each other so much. They felt like paradise in a way. But there was one day that an acquaintance of ours came to hang out for the day. He had nothing better to do, so why not go and hang at the nice beach house? Maybe acquaintance is too familiar of a term to use for him–perhaps a guy that went to our school is better? Either way, his name is Sam, and he’s just shy of a complete buffoon. And I know you remember what he said, asking if you would EVER fuck another guy if you were given at least a million dollars. And you pondered for a while because how could you EVER even THINK about having anal sex ever? God, how taboo is that to even think that two boys could interact in other ways that don’t include sports and talking about women!

So. I got upset. I got upset quite audibly in front of all of our friends. I, frankly, wasn’t a huge fan of having conversations like this one at the dinner table. And you got offended from my comments made towards Sam. You asked why I was going “so hard” on Sam, that guy that went to our school. The well known “awkward silence” ensued, and the entire bout was over. And you then forgot about it. But I didn’t.

A common experience that most people in the LGBTQ+ (Queer) community face is the process of coming out of the closet. Logically, this process makes a lot of sense. It’s clarifying a very big part of your life to those close to you. It’s such a beautiful and great process to go through–finally being able to be who you are without worrying about what people will speculate; however, as with all great things, it comes with a price. After you come out, you subject yourself to an inherent difference to most other people in your community. In a survey done in 2016, the amount of men who identified within the Queer Community was 3.6%, which means, in a room of 100 men, I would be lucky to find another 2-3 men with whom I wouldn’t have an inherent difference. It’s something very well known within the Queer Community, and it’s something that you know you will encounter in your day to day life. But it gets old sometimes. I would love it if one day I wasn’t aware of that mutation in my DNA. That day has yet to come.

That night, however, Sam made it extremely evident that I was different. He spoke of gay sex like it was the worst possible crime to commit. He spoke of my community like it was a group of deranged psychopaths that are too stupid to realize the sea of transgressions they swim through in their petty lives.

You allowed this behavior. Then, you encouraged it–participating in the moral dilemma of engaging in the most retched act mankind has ever seen for a large payout. And then, you gave me a crazy look when I had the nerve to stand up for myself. You, my dearest friend, failed me that night.

None of us are perfect, and I don’t want this letter to feel like I’m asking that of you. However, you have a responsibility to stand up and support those in the queer community when they are pushed down. This responsibility was not bestowed on you when God created your soul from His breath, and it isn’t yours because I’m writing this letter. This responsibility is yours because it’s a promise you’ve made to me.

Advocacy relates a lot to a close friendship. As my friend, I know that you have my back if someone speaks badly on my behalf. As my friend, I know that you care for me so much and only want me to prosper and succeed in life. But as my advocate, it takes one more step (and a lot more courage). There will be plenty more times like this where someone will speak poorly about the Queer community–more than likely using the “hate speech” medium–and it is your responsibility to have my back in those situations. It is your responsibility to speak up with me when I have to disrupt a party of 11 to stop the offensive behavior happening in front of me.

And I know you will.

I want to encourage you to understand that I value our friendship more than you could know. I still remember that day in 7^th grade when I had a run-in with my personal bully that year who seemed to want to remind me everyday of my inherent difference. I was crying, speed walking to the bathroom to collect myself, when you came up to me and asked what was wrong. I told you to go away, but you stayed. You waited outside of the bathroom for a solid ten minutes and walked me back to class. You’ve always wanted to do the right thing, and I feel that it’s my responsibility as your friend to help you understand what the right thing is when it’s harder to see.

With care and sincerity,

Jacob