I've been thinking about this whole "Chick-fil-A" debacle a lot recently. As a lot of you know, I like to be thoughtful in my reactions to things.

My initial reaction to Dan Cathy's "Guilty as charged" comments about his company being against gay marriage reinforced my long-held belief that I should not eat at such an establishment. I haven't eaten there in years, and I actually like just about anything that's fried, so that's saying something.

Then came the huge outcry about boycotting the restaurant, and some political figures got involved on both sides. And then came a response from the middle that surprised me and made me feel that I should re-examine my own beliefs. A Facebook friend wrote that the company didn't give money to anti-gay organizations; if they did that, he'd boycott. They only donated to anti-gay marriage organizations. Not sure I bought that one. "Judge the sandwich by the sandwich," one blogger wrote. "This boycott solves nothing," a writer for a small newspaper wrote.

And I thought, well, maybe they are right. Perhaps it's okay for a company's CEO to disagree with me on certain political issues. After all, this is America. We have a right to our beliefs, and we have a right to express them. Perhaps, I thought, I should support his right to free speech.

I thought about this last night as we stood waiting for a table at Don and Charlies, a fantastic restaurant in Scottsdale frequented by athletes. It's a steakhouse with a very specific masculine edge. I was standing there with Chuck, and this interesting thought crossed my mind for a moment:

What would happen if I grabbed my partner of nine years' hand right now? Seriously. I thought that.

I mean, we love each other. Grabbing his hand would not be a lewd act. There were male-female couples waiting there who were holding hands. That's a normal thing to do. What if we did that?

We wouldn't, of course. And that's part of what I'm getting at. Most of the reason we wouldn't is that I am conditioned to think that it's weird for two men to hold hands. Having grown up here, in this world, I have certain beliefs, and one of those beliefs is that it is shameful for two men to hold hands.

I am not kidding here. I am being brutally honest with you.

So that means I am in a loving relationship, but I am afraid of people's reaction to that relationship in public. How fucking awful is that?

Someone once told me that guilt and shame are different things. Guilt is a reaction to something you have done. Shame is a reaction to who you are. Guilt has its uses. Feeling guilt allows us to change our behavior so as to avoid guilt in the future. Shame, on the other hand, is useless! What, are you going to change who you are? I suppose if "who you are" is a lying SOB, that's one thing, but I'd argue that's "what you do," not "who you are." In my case, who I am is a homosexual. If the recent issues with Exodus International have taught us anything, it's that even people who really want to change that, really can't, even with the help of a 12-step program. Which tells us that it's an identity, not a behavior.

So shame is useless. And we should eradicate it from our world. Not just for gay people, but for ALL people. What's the use of feeling bad about your identity? That's just a shame. Pun intended.

My point is, of course people are allowed to think homosexuality is a sin. No one has ever needed my permission to think that. They have, and apparently they will continue to feel that way. But it is precisely these sorts of people and their public expressions of such thoughts that have kept me feeling ashamed of who I am into my 40s. I came out well over 20 years ago. I'm publicly out, I have a novel about a gay football player and another one with a title -- Openly Straight -- that makes it quite clear what the subject of that novel is. I am hardly a shrinking violet. And yet there is still a part of me, despite all obvious signs pointing the other way, that thinks there is something wrong with me.

Despite the fact that I am a good person who treats others with kindness.
Despite the fact that people remind me on a frequent basis that I'm one of the nice guys.
Despite the fact that my marriage is happy and healthy. In fact, it is far happier and healthier than many if not most heterosexual marriages.
Despite the fact that I know my first novel saved at least two lives. 


I seem to lose these facts in this core belief that has been drilled into my head that I am less than. And that was not something that I was born with. That was something that happened when I was 14 and 15 and 16, and people told me that I was less than. That's why I write books for teens! Because I don't want people at those ages deciding they are less than! 


So yes, Dan Cathy can have his opinion on me and my "lifestyle." Anyone can. But you better bet your ass that I should not support his restaurant. And you shouldn't either, because at this moment in time, every time you walk into a Chick-fil-A, you are sending a message to those of us who happen to be gay. We are, to him and his ilk, FAR less than heterosexuals. I will not support the exporting of shame to those who have already been made to feel shameful, and I hope you will not, either.