Ding Dong The Witch Is (Almost) Dead!

In the wake of the news that Fred Phelps is on his death bed, many are calling for cool heads to prevail. Many are encouraging us to exercise restraint and even to forgive and show forbearance. And I have noticed that all of these holier-than-thou admonitions are getting on some peoples’ nerves. So I just wanted to say that whatever your reaction, I’m okay with it. If you want to pray for Fred Phelps’ soul, that’s fine with me. If you want to plan a “Fred Is Dead” party, that’s fine with me also. And if your emotions are mixed, that’s perfectly understandable. The man stirred up a lot of emotions in many of us, and his “God Hates Fags” signs waved about at funerals served to focus our anger, fear, disappointment and pain regarding having been brought up in a society that made it clear most despised us…sometimes even our families and the people who were supposed to be on our side when we were young and at our most vulnerable.

When I was teenager, I was told in no uncertain terms that I shouldn’t like boys and that I should act like a man. I’ve had a lot of emotional problems over the years–depression, anxiety, that sort of thing–and I’ve had people tell me that I should get over it, or I have no right to feel the way I do. I’ve had gay men tell me exactly what kind of man I should find attractive. I’m sick of people telling me how I should feel, so I’ll try to refrain from telling others how they should feel regarding the passing of Fred Phelps.

The first time I heard of Fred Phelps was when he showed up at the funeral of Matthew Shepard. I had never heard of anyone picketing a funeral before, much less the funeral of a murder victim. It made me sick. It made a lot of us sick.

I probably won’t raise much of a ruckus when ol’ Fred finally buys the farm, but if a bunch of screaming LGBT folk descend on Phelps’ funeral and throw flaming bags of cow pies at the hearse transporting his carcass, I will do what most Christians did when they saw the old bastard tormenting the family of a dead gay boy in their god’s name: nothing.