Let me encourage you to spend some time with this amazing article. Read about the author, take in in arguments, follow his links. It’s a long piece but well worth all the time you can give to it. An excerpt from a post by Robert Oscar Lopez:
We aren’t the first generation that got hoodwinked by sexual libertines, rakes, drama queens, and garden-variety scum. Ever heard of the “Gay ’90s?” The 1890s saw a fin-de-siècle cult of aesthetical excess that allowed promiscuous cads, homosexuals, demimonde solicitors, and pornographers to flourish in wealthy cities like Paris and Chicago, while the poor lived twenty to a room and the masses starved.
Back then, the term “gay” didn’t mean homosexual, but the ties between the two words were already being forged. “Gay” meant devil-may-care, a bit self-indulgent, irreverent, the bon vivant of the party who downs cocktails, engages in forbidden pleasures, and charms his way out of trouble.
The reference point to “gay” was fun tainted by dishonesty and callousness. It is quite appealing, unless you’re Oscar Wilde and society’s backlash catches up with you. “Gay” men were serial bachelors, deadbeat dads, bisexuals, homosexuals, drifters, gamblers, cross-dressers, opium addicts, and circuit boys. In the twentieth century, somehow all these forms of gleeful decadence became reduced to the mere question of homosexuality. Some homosexuals quite foolishly took it upon themselves to carry on the tradition of perversion and excess by making their subculture ground zero for old patterns of social breakdown.
Remember, we aren’t the first ones fooled. We are just the generation that got hoodwinked by this toxic mix when it was packaged as celebrating the wholesome liberation of same-sex love.
The Myth of the Blameless Gay Victim
Just one year ago, much of the nation was still enthralled by visions of homosexual innocence.
When I went to St. Paul to testify before Minnesota lawmakers about the irreplaceable nature of mothers and fathers, the chosen witnesses in favor of gay marriage took seats and cried on cue before elected officials.
In the House committee, middle-class parents sat before the panels and started talking about how they wanted their good-natured and innocent gay son to be happy. They broke down and started crying. Then in the Senate, they performed the same routine. You could have set your timer – here come the waterworks in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…
Others came forward and partook in the choreographed weeping – Republicans and Democrats, Baptists and atheists – in between the testimonials from sons of homosexuals who assured the committee that they were perfectly happy being deprived of their biological dads or moms, or not even knowing who those dads and moms were. We even got a less famous version of Zach Wahls; from the plains of Minnesota comes the trim white suburban boy conceived through sperm-banking, to say his lesbian moms raised him so well that he turned out heterosexual, a varsity letterman, gorgeous, and articulate.
He is so successful that now nobody will sympathize with him if one day he wakes up, decides a terrible wrong has been done to him, and wants to know who his father is. The poor chap got swindled by his own moms.
And so it goes with famous coming-out stories like the sons of Rob Portman and Paul Singer, or the conspicuous case of Dick Cheney’s daughter. These people used the fact that they had famous or rich fathers to push forward policy enabling millions of lesbians to bring children into the world with no fathers at all. If that isn’t the epitome of short-sighted selfishness, I don’t know what is.