The Wrong Word For The Right Reasons
This past Saturday, after a rousing evening at Radegast Beer Hall in the wilds of Brooklyn, I was drunk.
And while drunk, I attempted to make the claim that the word f*ggot is as equally offensive as the word n*gger. (I can’t even type either the words.)
Apparently, people disagreed. There was a lot about semantics, a lot about context, and a lot about the fact that while people wouldn’t use the word in front of their mother, they still felt it was more acceptable in social situations.
OK. So because some idiot ”brahs” throw the word around like beer cans at a frat party it’s now deemed socially acceptable?
As far as I’m concerned, if you wouldn’t use the word to describe a parent, a friend, or in a professional situation, then you shouldn’t use it at all.
There should be no shades of grey, and as far as I’m concerned, there are none.
And then I saw this post on HuffPo, titled “Just One More Dead Faggot”, in which Sara Whitman managed to find the one use of the word that makes me sick to my stomach for all the right reasons.
