Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
How Homophobia Works
I wrote a story a while back. A good little story, actually: in all candor, one of my best. "Leaf Man, Rise Up," it's called.
It's scary: a horror story, with a neat pagan twist to it. Lyrical, if horror can be lyrical.
The old priest sat on the park bench, watching the boys play their weird game. That's how it begins.
Unfortunately, you probably won't be seeing the story anytime soon. Why not?
Well, you won't be reading "Leaf Man" anytime soon because it's a story about a serial child predator—really, what's scarier (or creepier) than pedophilia?—and the guy that wrote it (= me) is gay.
Now, if you write a story about an arsonist, people don't think: He must want to burn things down.
If you write a story about a murderer, they don't say: She must want to kill people.
But when a gay guy writes a story about a pedophile, you automatically think: Hunh.
That's how homophobia works.
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