One Night In Jail Opened My Eyes To Homophobia

As I sat in the jail cell, I was oblivious to the hatred surrounding me, that is until a cellmate began to exhibit signs that he wanted to harm me.

One of the men in the cell with me kept looking at me. It was one of those unnerving stares that made me worry that I was not safe. His eyes craved something carnal, and his balled fists promised a fight.

Closing my eyes, I wondered again how I had ended up in jail. It was not something I ever thought would happen to me, yet it had.

Earlier that night, I had been driving home. A minor traffic violation and a forgotten wallet had brought me to the jail cell and the man who was trying his best to scare me.

It worked.

Fear consumed me, and it dawned on me that this was an important life lesson. It opened my eyes to what was happening around me, things that might have seemed obvious to most but had escaped my attention.

For years, I had crowed that my coming out had been easy. No lost friends and just a blip of drama with my family. It seemed too good to be true. And it was. Some of my friends lost their homes and worse. They kept saying that homophobia was alive and well.

I didn't see it - until the night in that jail cell.

The man who kept looking at me waited until the other guys were asleep and moved next to me. His lips curled into a sneer as he whispered, "you have pretty lips." The implication was clear.

There was no denying that I was a gay man. Everything about me screamed it. Never had I felt fearful of that part of my identity - even through school and the courses I took in college - nobody used my sexuality to intimidate me.

But it was clear that this guy was going to try.

In the cell

The man continued to use insinuations about what he wanted. He wasn't subtle about it and taking no for an answer was not this guy's M.O.

I resorted to sass and putting up a bravado. It took all of my will power not to show that real fear was beginning to spread in my body.

My eyes cut to the desk where an officer was supposed to be stationed, but it was empty. If this guy made a move to fight me, I was on my own. And something told me that he was going to do something.

He began spouting stereotypes about gay men that he'd heard from the last time he was in jail. Or on the playground with second-graders. Still, he wasn't letting up and dropping derogative words every chance that he got.

Then it happened. He tried to make a move. What he wanted began plain as day, but I resisted, which irritated him.

One of the other guys began to wake up. Once the man realized the jig was up, he began screaming that I was gay.

It didn't take long for all the other guys to wake up. Each stared at me as if I were an alien. None of them said anything, but it was obvious that they were not comfortable with me being in the cell with them.

They might catch the gay.

At this point, my hands were shaking, and my breathing was unsteady. All I could do was pray that my friend was on his way to come get me out of there and take me home.

I wasn't safe, and my mental health was taking a big hit.

Not just prisoners

As my intimidator kept yelling homophobic things, another of the guys asked him to be quiet. He made it clear that it wasn't to help me but rather, he wanted to go back to sleep.

It didn't matter.

A cop came by and took Mr. Tired and one of the other men to their official cells. They would be arraigned in the morning and weren't likely to catch bail.

The intimidator began to taunt me by pulling his pants lower and saying that if I didn't do what he wanted, he would kick my ass. I answered by saying that I wasn't interested and looked over the desk, where an officer sat looking at his computer.

I silently asked for a miracle, something that would bring me out of this situation. The cop who had taken the other guys came back. He said that my friend was there to bail me out.

The intimidator informed the officer that I was a gay man. As we walked through the maze of the jailhouse, the cop looked at me and asked if I was sure I wanted to be released. He said that there were plenty of guys who would like to meet me. Maybe I could even find a boyfriend.

Fed up with how these guys were talking to me, I asked if he had a partner. The question caught him off guard and he said no. I went on to question why he didn't take one of the men to be his boyfriend since he was so intent on playing jailhouse matchmaker.

He countered that he wasn't gay, but I am, so what was the harm.

Eyes wide open

The cop and I continued to talk as he walked me to where my friend was waiting. He used the old "I can't be homophobic, I have gay friends" excuse. When pushed, he admitted that he often said things about and to them that he wouldn't say to his heterosexual buddies.

He seemed surprised when I told him it wasn't ok. Maybe his friends were fine with it at the time. The LGBTQIA community does accept a lot of stuff that they shouldn't. But I wasn't willing to accept that he talked to me like that, and I hoped that next time, he would think twice about saying these things to others.

After my night in a jail cell, I began to see how homophobia had permeated society. Hurtful things were passed off as insults. Complaints from a queer person were brushed off as them being too sensitive.

I still tell people that coming out is a great thing, it is. And I share that my experience was overwhelmingly positive. But I also let them know that not everything is rainbows and cosmos.

There is still work to be done.

Thankfully, I made it through that night and am here to do the work.