by Scott MacDonald
VOICES
The Simple Truth
Next Generation
UNDER THE SWELTERING HEAT OF A HOT
JULY DAY IN PORTLAND, A DAY IN WHICH
NO SOLACE COULD BE FOUND FROM A SOFT,
PUFFY CLOUD OR SPONTANEOUS RAIN
STORM, TWO MEN WAITED PATIENTLY AT
A CROSSWALK. THEY WORE CUT OFF JEAN
SHORTS, AND LONG THREADS OF DENIM
TIGHTLY CLUTCHED THEIR LEGS, DAMP
WITH SWEAT. THEY BOTH WORE MUSCLE
SHIRTS; ONE A BRIGHT PASTEL BLUE, THE
OTHER WHITE AND BLACK STRIPES. THEIR
STRONG ARMS GLINTED IN THE SUMMER’S
BLINDING LIGHT. As they stood at the corner, the
one in blue grew impatient. He walked quickly in
little circles until the other reached out and grabbed
his belt. He gently pulled him closer and wrapped his
arms around him. He stared into his eyes and their
lips met. His partner grew still, his impatience seem-
ingly drained with a single kiss. Nearby, the crosswalk
light flashed green, and the two departed, hand in
hand, to destinations unknown.
And across the street, I solemnly stood mouth agape.
My face twitched with pain from a raised eyebrow that
had been at attention for far too long. My face flushed,
my heart raced and my mind fervently sought resolu-
tion for what I had witnessed, not because of what I
had seen, but because I had seen it at all.
I’m from Idaho, a place where you’re more likely to
get stuck behind a tractor, a truck with a horse trailer
and a van full of Mormons than you are to see such an
interaction. Outside of clubs or the safety of a friend’s
party in college, what I witnessed was the first public
display of affection I had seen between two gay people
in a place full of passersby.
When you spend your life in a place that voices dis-
dain at your very presence, these moments are indeed
milestones.
When I regained myself, admiration had replaced
my shock, which quickly turned to envy. What did
these men possess that I didn’t which allowed them
to act so openly with each other, even while existing
in a world of ignorance and hatred? Either they were
stronger, more courageous than I — unabashed, un-
ashamed of their love — or that dense, oppressive
atmosphere simply didn’t linger in the air waiting to
crush them to dust.
Scott MacDonald is an award winning young journalist
originally from Idaho. He writes The Simple Truth for Just Out.
Reach Scott at JustOut.com
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JustOut.com
I had a few gay friends, and while I wasn’t ashamed
of myself — I phrased it as situational awareness; a
half-truth — I didn’t have pride. My interactions with
August 2012