Why I sign my name here.

The question of anonymity involves quite a few issues and some of their tendrils reach deep into ones that I struggle with; here is my exploration of them and the answer to the question. Not that too many people seem to wonder about it, but it is important to me. Perhaps this is because it is obvious to a lot of people but I also know many of us are hindered by the dynamic that G.B.Shaw put his finger on so firmly when someone quoted him-“No question is so difficult to answer as that to which the answer is obvious.”. Let me spell out the obvious and otherwise.

In the same way that a convert feels compelled to share their conversion and the depth of their experience with others as well as the insights their transformation has given them, I have had similar revelations, as well as similar compulsions, that have shaped my outlook on life relative to fear and insecurity, the two underlying motives for being hidden.

I knew around the age of 17 that I was attracted to men, and for those of you who seem incapable of wrapping your head around the idea of “bisexuality”, this was long after I had an appreciation of women. Being attracted to men and women was never a contradiction in my mind for I have long had an understanding of the, at times, elusive subtleties and conflicts inherent in life and just how screwed up we, as a society, are, relative to sexuality and our black and white vision. Content with this understanding about myself and still deep in the grip of fear that I learned so very well growing up as a child, I never felt particularly passionate about sharing this with anyone in the larger world.

As my doors of perception opened and I grew up I came to understand just how warped I was from fear, how stunted and misshapen I had become and how, if not stopped, my fear would continue to damage myself and those around me. The cliché of F.D.R.’s is just that because it is so ragingly true- “The only thing we have to fear is, fear itself.” It is the mind killer.

Which is not to say that I am free of it. I continue to struggle with it to varying degrees and for a variety of reasons. However, several years ago, after a relationship was ended it occurred to me that in my new state of solitude it was the appropriate time to start owning the other aspects of my sexuality and was tired of letting the many oppressive voices, both in my head and in society at large, dictate my behavior. The relationship I was in was far from suffocating, but very much guided by the considerations for her comfort and security and as such didn’t feel the desire to come out of the closet; I was out to her and very much satisfied with things the way they were. The new solitude made me aware of how tired I was of being in the closet at the same time though, and I found an object to focus much of the ever present, seemingly congenital anger in me upon-homophobia, as well as all the attendant sickness it is both representative of and that it enables. So out I came with a vengeance, or at least what felt like vengeance.

The liberation I felt is difficult to describe, the change in outlook made so many things clearer. I had cracked through another layer of the petrifaction laid down by childhood, the scales were removed from my eyes.

Around this same time I was in a bicycle accident that resulted in a compound fracture of my lower jaw, a broken face/nose and a severe concussion; that is to say, more physical pain than I had ever experienced in my life. I say that after a previous skull fracture and severe concussion at the age of 5, an assault when I was 17 that left me with 60 stitches in my head and 12 in my back, and another mild concussion. In short, I know physical pain and the bike accident was the worst I have felt.

The point of bringing this experience up is to cast light on an incident that happened a couple of months after I had come out and after the bike accident-a beating at the hands of three skinheads. The details aren’t relevant except that, when asked at the start of it “I’ll bet you’re one of those hippy art fags, aren’t you?”, my reply, which I knew at the time was both the right one and the wrong one was “Yeah, what if I am?” I did this because I knew what real pain felt like, both psychological and physical, and the pain these two-bit losers were capable of inflicting was nothing I hadn’t already known. I did this because I wasn’t going to let homophobia make my decision. I wasn’t going to let their ignorance, insecurity and stupidity make the decisions for me. I wasn’t going to hide or crawl away from their behavior. I was right and they were wrong. It is my life and not theirs. I make the decisions and do so proudly and will get in the face of the vicious, stupid and insecure. I own my feelings, thoughts and behaviors. Fuck the bastards.

I am painfully aware of the potential for negative consequences as a result of simply being myself. I am, more importantly, aware of the negative consequences of yielding to ignorance, stupidity, fear and oppression. Overcoming fear is a visceral as well as a psychological need for me.

Those four qualities, ignorance, stupidity, fear and oppression are destroying my home, my nation, and my world, and are being pursued in a willful calculated approach by many people in this country and indeed by the very people who currently hold the reins of power and their small-minded, virulent, delusional supporters.

My adopting a posture of anonymity condones the very forces and their corrosive behaviors that are ravaging this nation. I will not live in fear. I will not hide. I will not turn the other cheek. I will not ignore the damage being done. I will not facilitate the power they are wielding to destroy the very ideals that we are, nominally at least, killing for. And praying for. And indoctrinating about. And paying for.

At this point in my life and from my point of view, anonymity is wrong. Anonymity is hiding because of fear. Anonymity is avoiding responsibility. Just ask John Hancock and the rest of our hallowed, revered, Founding Fathers.

Now then, having gone on in this righteous, indignant tone, let me share some of the other side of this coin I’m looking at.

Caution is brought about by an understanding of what one has to lose. The risk that life can be at times has made me move in a pretty calculated way and I am loath to lose what I have worked so hard to make in my life. More importantly and perhaps more relevantly to this post, nobody but myself is put in immediate risk by what I do and say, I don’t have that much to lose in an immediate fashion. As such I have a greater degree of liberty or to put this in another light, am less imprisoned by the circumstances I have created for myself.

I have been aware of this for awhile and to some degree, but it was brought to my attention recently in a conversation with a friend. He related to me an experience he had regarding a letter to the editor and a resulting online discussion in which he took someone to task for their out-of-control behavior in a youth sporting event. Someone else reading their exchange wrote to my friend revealing a lot of personal info about where my friend lived, the ages of his children and more with the intention of getting under his skin and wigging him out. And the online thug succeeded, my friend was understandably wigged out and in fact didn’t do anymore posting for awhile. He felt threatened, and justifiably so. His caution was born of his awareness of his responsibility to his family. I understand and respect that. The downside of that choice, however, is a defacto tolerance of socially unacceptable behavior. The threatening freak who took advantage of public trust and my friends assumption of security in our civilized society, crossed a line that is clearly drawn, and got away with it to the extent that he got his twisted kicks from it. My friend owned his action, he accepted responsibility for what he said , felt, and thought by signing his name. And was put in jeopardy for it by someone who used the anonymity the ’net provides to evade responsibility for his (or her) ugliness.

I have said, and will continue to say, some pretty inflammatory, impassioned things on this blog and do so in the belief that there are some people out there who are thoughtful and reflective enough to take what I say at face value and gain some insight into those who disagree with them. I am doing so with the understanding that I am taking a risk from some of the very same people who pose a greater risk to society and the values that this nation is founded upon. We protect free speech, not so we can be nice to one another, but so we can call people out on their stupidity, bullshit and just plain wrong-headedness. We also protect our right to be rude to one another in the belief that through discussion of these difficult divisive subjects arrive at a sensible reasoned coexistence with one another, and with this insight develop “a more perfect union”. I also believe that people tend to behave as they are treated, to rise or fall to the expectations placed before them. I am demanding intelligence because I think we’re intelligent people, please don’t prove me wrong. Be nice or you may come to understand in a fairly painful difficult fashion why it is important to do so.

Our faith and trust in one another is the baseline of our “domestic tranquility” and the social contract. We have a responsibility to one another, and I willfully, even joyfully accept that- I will not tolerate living in fear of those who do not. Neither should anyone else.

Signed in passion, anger, love and pride,

John Steven Holmes