Homegrown

By Stephanie Stevens

So, I had written a column in response to a statement you, Ian, made in your recent editorial regarding sexual preference muddling politics.

And it was a pretty good column, if I do say so myself. I rather liked some of my wording.

But, we spoke, or rather emailed, prior to it running, and I had a better sense of what has instigated the comment, so I asked you to hold it while I reworked.

Which brings us to this:

What the actual f**k?

The statement you made was “Gerry Taft chose to be bisexual.”

(Ed. note: actual quote: “Gerry Taft chooses to be bisexual.”)

See Sexual preference, like religion, clouds politics, Oct. 23, ‘16

Now, without any other context or explanation, this is a statement that could, should, and did, raise the ire of many. Nothing else said after that mattered.

Even I, and I know you well, was shocked and saddened. All I could think was “did he really say that? Did Ian Cobb just say sexuality is a CHOICE?”

You know full well a person’s sexuality, be it heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual or any other sexual, is not a choice, it is simply who a person is. No one chooses. They simply are; same goes for gender identity.

But when I read that line, I was gobsmacked. And the original column I wrote was not just a commentary, it was an ache portrayed in words.

I am glad we spoke before you ran it.

But I still want to cuff you upside the head, figuratively speaking.

You also know, because you were one of the people who drilled it into me, that if you are not careful with your wording, people can and will misunderstand what you are saying and your message will be lost.

I realize you were likely having a J. Jonah Cobb moment over the entire NDP qualifications fiasco, and you did make a lot of points I am on side with.

But as a fellow journalist, I have got to say this: you did not make your point regarding Gerry’s bisexuality “choice” clear, all you did was make a statement that makes you look like a narrow-minded git.

For crying out loud, you are an award winning journalist, and hell of an editor, and I have been proud of you for a great many years. I am still proud of you. But you screwed up laddie, with that one ill-considered line.

Your message, for many, was lost the moment they read those words.

We still live in a time when those who are not heterosexual, missionary position abiding folks still feel fear about their sexual orientation or proclivities being made public. We still live in time of hate crimes, of bigots, of homophobia. We still live in a time, although we have made strides, when the right to be who you are is not really a right. It is a privilege granted only to those who fit into a tight little corridor.

We still live in a time when people are gibbering ignorantly about Sharia law “coming to Canada,” yet stand firm with the other religions’ forceful (and law-creating) stance against a woman’s right to choose, blissfully, and by choice, ignoring the parallels.

We still live in a time when hate and hate inducing words and actions are still being flung about (see our neighbours to the south) and lauded as “telling it like it is.”

You know how important it is to choose your words carefully, especially in this day and age with the fight for equality for all still raging.

And yes I know you don’t give a tinker’s cuss you whom you upset or offend and you might not give a tinker’s cuss about what I am saying here. But it affects how people read what you write, so you bloody well better get to caring a cuss this time.

In all the years we committed journalism together at The Valley Echo, you only ever once made a significant change to a column I wrote. You changed a fairly powerful line to something more innocuous. And I was mad as hell. But you would not change it back. You were the editor, and you made a judgment call to keep me out of hot water.

Looking back, you made the right call. But boy it took me a long time to admit it. You had dared to change my words, in an opinion piece.

Had I written the line that inspired this column you would have walked into my office, closed the door and gone up one side of me and down the other.

And again, you would have been right.

I am bummed I cannot use a few of the parts I wrote in the other column. Bummed because they expressed not only my disappointment in your choice of words, but also conveyed my affection for you, as a friend, as a colleague.

If I outlive you, you cantankerous old bastard, I will use them then in a eulogy.

‘Nuff said.

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