When I pulled into the driveway this afternoon, however, I was greeted by this:
What you see is painted in some blood red substance on our garage door. It occupies a space approximately 2.5 by 3.5 feet. When I first saw it, my initial reaction was that it was some sort of code, that PG&E had marked the house "1-A9" for some odd reason. While I was trying to parse out what that reason could possibly be, the true meaning suddenly became clear: FAG.
In the 14 or so years that I have been out, I have never, until now, felt any overt hatred or homophobia. Even when evangelicals were protesting outside the Bette Midler show I went to in Oakland, it didn't even feel like hate; they sincerely thought they were trying to help us. So I've never had anyone treat me like a second-class citizen because of my sexual orientation. (Or at least no strangers; one of my brothers has some issues, but that's another story.) Until now.
When the realization dawned on me of what that juvenile scrawl meant, it was like a punch to the gut. I felt suddenly sick. Someone, probably someone in my neighborhood, vandalized my home to send a message that I was hated simply because of who I am. It may look like a prank, but it doesn't feel like one. It feels like hatred. Like ostracism. (And this happened in liberal Marin County -- imagine what gay people in Mississippi or Ohio have to go through!)
Before I came back into San Francisco, I spoke to three neighbors, each of whom voiced support for us and anger that this happened. My Iranian-born neighbor was especially incensed, probably because he can imagine what it's like to be despised simply for being who you are.
It's fascinating to me that my last two posts have been about hate crimes legislation -- which I generally oppose -- and now I find myself the victim of such a crime.
I reported the incident to the Marin County Sheriff's Office, and they took a report. I will update you with any additional news or information.
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