More than half of all people polled now believe that being gay is NOT a choice. Biological? Really?! Wow! Look, ma — you gave me the gay gene!

All kidding aside, it’s about goddamned time the tide changed and people began realizing that “gay” isn’t something you line up before God, thinking, “Wow, gee, I’d love to have a penchant for musicals, enjoy taking it from behind, and look FABULOUS in the colours pink and chartreuse! Gimme that gay gene, Godguy!”

One out of three suicidal kids tries to off themselves ‘cos they have fears of being gay. As much as it might seem like a ticket to cool when shows like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy sets the style standard (arguably) or when it seems like all the cool kids have diddled someone of their same sex as a party favour at a kegger, being gay’s still not exactly the easiest thing to be in most parts of North America, let alone beyond our continent’s doors.

But, hey, let’s turn that frown upside down, boys and girls! After all, back when I was a wee lass in the ’70s, only about 10% of the population thought gays were born that way. Since then, people who’ve been able to clue in have been growing by more than 10% per decade. They’ve grabbed a brain when it comes to the fact that being gay’s not really a choice– I mean, not like chosing to stay in with a movie and a vibrator on a slow weekend night, all right?

Yer either born into the Streisand appreciation club or you’re not. Just ‘cos you fucked someone you could’ve shared a locker room with in school doesn’t mean you’re gay. Slutty, curious, open to adventure, maybe. Not necessarily gay.

While we’re talking all things gay, I noticed that there’s a group on Facebook getting popular in my circles — “Against Gay Marriage? Then Don’t Get One and Shut the Fuck Up!” or something — the other day. The title made me grin, but in reality, it’s just not that simple.

Those arguing against gay marriage the loudest are those shouting the “sanctity of marriage!” mantra. Some of the hipsters want to solve the problem by saying we’ll give ’em marriage, but we’ll call it “civil unions”. Every time I hear that, I see the impassioned angst expressed by my dear friend GayBoy in his arguments against this Band-aid fix’er of calling it a “civil union”.

“If you call it something else, then it’s not marriage, is it?” GayBoy would comment. No. Then it’s some piddly little fucking crumb you’re throwing the freaks outside in order to placate them. Marriage, however, will still be the secret-secret thingie-thing held sacred by breeders and straight people everywhere, held tauntingly just outside the grasp of gays.

I’m for gay marriage. I’m also for realizing that the sanctity of marriage went up in smoke centuries ago. I’m for acknowledging that love and decency and sacrifice and death-till-we-part are not trademarked by straight breeders. Passion knows no chromosome. Love knows no genetic markers. Faith and optimism aren’t wholly owned by religious types.

I’m for living in a world where we all have the chance to be what we want, love who we love, and dream the same dreams, no matter who we are inside.

Clearly my glasses are thick and rose-coloured, but I insist on trying to hold on to this worldview. I mean, what, we’re only four decades away from acceptance at this point, and that’s something. Isn’t it?

(Facts? Who needs facts? But if you wanna read where I read the original story that prompted my pugnacious little posting, here it is.)