We Work Now With Their Tools.

Gays and Guns

I first came to this rural queer community in 1993. I was brought there by the Spanish professor at my university. I had no real idea of what I was getting into… but once I was there, I never left. I was 20-years-old at the time, I am now 52, soon to be 53.

It was this amazing space of creative folks. Folks who bucked the “norm” for gay people. Folks who operated on a different level. We made art, we made theatre, we made music, we bonded, we fucked, we… lived.

Twice a year gatherings were held where hundreds of fae from across the globe would come to the woods for a few weeks to enjoy and celebrate each other.

In the off-time from those gatherings, we would hold (and still hold) smaller weekly get-togethers to share food, chat, play games and whatnot. We have a weekly newsletter that goes out, informing folks of various activities/events/needs/etc.

My father has been a gun nut since I was a kid. We had a shooting range in the back pasture. To be fair, we lived a life where hunting was the norm. I was shooting things before I was in the double-digits. But (not much) later in life I took a dislike to both the hunting and the guns. As an adult dealing with depression/ideation, I made the decision to not have guns in our home. YES, there were times when guns would’ve come in handy… when an injured animal showed up in the field and needed to be put down and the like. Shovels and knives are not fun to use up close. But those times were a rarity.

My father also always asks if I want his gun collection when he passes. He’s done this for YEARS. I’ve told him no repeatedly. I don’t want anything to do with them. I don’t want them around me. He asks again.

And again.

And again.

I always say no.

Today in our community newsletter there’s a post about “ballistics training”… a polite way to navigate the word “gun.” I detest this so much, but it’s also completely understandable. Twice in the last few months we had armed (presumably white) folks shooting guns at the front of one the properties shouting racial slurs.

I hate that this is where we are at.

I hate that I’m thinking of accepting my father’s offer of the guns, just so I can distribute them among our people. I still will not have one in my home for my own safety.

I moved to the woods as practically a child (let’s be honest, 20 is a child) to avoid this kind of thing, to find a different kind of life, but here we are.